Although no new comments were made, all of our eyes fell upon the unsurprising truth of the beauty spoken of by the fire that lit the sky.
It was dusk.
A yellow ocre sky, just near the mountains.
Beautiful British Columbia.

And a white fire finale.
.. . . .................... . .......... . . ...................

A late night shower, intoxicated.
Photographs of War.
Beautiful shadows cast by trees, even then.

Another night of questions.
Too many, she told me.

As it turns out: Cigarettes are sublime.