I’ve got a beef with late summer sunsets. Especially Sunday’s. Late summer sunsets don’t like to give up the ghost. Akin to the party host who won’t let you leave.
“Come on. Just one more drink.”
I think a horde of foster homes rubbled sunsets for me. Light passing through another other’s landscape limits one’s horizons. Without your own sun kissed angle, you feel you have no choice but to cut corners.
— As previously mentioned I want to dollar a holler some of my writings. Perhaps I can monetize the maudlin.