Dusk in the Far North

Empty streets and a sky aflame — cold rushes in like water. In each window are flashes of sunset. The racing clouds and simmering colors contrast with the silent, grey road. As shadows fall over the city, another life quickens and takes shape amid the grit.

Pinnacles prod the air. A pile of dark stones punctures through the road to suggest that, somehow, man is not in full control of how his city takes shape. The unexpected, the chaotic, can take up residence right in the middle of order.

Doors shut. Shouts fade. Who would come out into this night? Things with wings, creatures with fire in their hearts.