When the world comes to a complete stop; when streets are bare and gates rather than storefronts line the sidewalks; when greenhouse emissions are suspended by a percent and people sit with wide glowing eyes scrolling through endless trash cans of media; when the orange tells us to hoard our money and and stay antiquated but never fear…

Do plastic bags continue soaring with the breeze, or can we maybe glimpse the bottom of a clear, sky-reflecting river? 

Do we see only black and white, or does the grayscale finally seep into our minds with traces of pink, blue, brown, rainbow light? 

Gold graffiti never struck the same way again; never in the pastfuturepresent as in the realm of song painting hallucinations. 

                                                                  - Oriana Hawley