Trattoria of LightHere in our neighborhood, we have trees. In the winter, the trees make combs for clouds and nets for stars, dark fingers against a dark sky. In the summer, they bloom into a lumpy green, obscuring the hard lines of the buildings.
A thing that I do not like about big suburban housing developments is that they raise the land of trees first. No canopy.
Most of the streetlamps in out neighborbood are sodium lamps, leaking amber light. That light washes of the trees of color, oddly, and can penetrate through the leaves to make the tree look sullen and deep.
But we have a singular, bright white streetlamp (fluorescent? incandescent? I do not know. I suspect the former, because it seems blue, but there is so much red about from the sodiums), and it has entirely different effect. The leaves become a deep, liquid green, and the light only touches the surface, leaving an unreal plane of color mixed with ink black holes.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at comment@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.