The 6th floor of a parking garage is not the place I typically expect to find beautiful or moving surroundings—especially since I am standing near where things ended badly for Eddy Blake at the end of my second novel Mash Up. But after leaning over a concrete wall, and stretching out my arm risking a six story drop of my smartphone in order to dodge the parking structure’s outer décor, I see this. I wonder again why phones are so slippery (I guess so they slide into your pocket), and take a handful of pictures hoping one will have an unobstructed view.
Airports are about motion; everyone is going someplace else. But this seems like a moment of stillness in the rush to take a few seconds to think about the season, and be grateful to be here.