moments – transit from Niagra, 2

There was a time, maybe 5 hours into the drive home, when I wasn’t sure if color existed in the outside world anymore. Every expanse of the ground was white, the trees I sketched outside the window as black and lifeless as the asphalt we drove on, the sky colored an unending grey. The road seemed endless to home, where all the work I had ignored all weekend awaited
It wasn’t until I looked back inside the car and saw the magenta of Freedom’s sweater, took out my headphones and heard the laughter of my now-friends who had kept me so warm all weekend, that I really believed the world had color again.

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