Notes on Alaska, Dec 2016 //

The sun sulks on the flat heartbeat horizon. Petulant child refusing to wake up. One eye open in contempt of the day. Blue rises above, endless and dense. An antique blue washed out and repainted a thousand times and more, sweeping over the heads of the brave few stumbling beneath it.

Shops are peculiar and specific. Aged fonts, misspellings on menus, seldom running buses and the day closes early. Yet the snow is still bright white, weeks after it fell. Here is the romance I am looking for.

The lights ran like flat wide arcs across the sky. Faint and dusty, rings of Saturn. At times dart like and sylphy, the tail of a comet caught in a trick mirror. You can’t look directly at them else they’ll disappear.

We drank whiskey from a plastic bottle while my eyelashes froze; we bought coffee at…