Near South Station. Boston
Crossing the bridge. Passing the crowds of humanity. Eavesdropping on the unending entourages. I stop on the bridge in the late October air at sunset, gazing out onto the blue water. The colors of the rapidly changing horizon bleeding together as they morphed from sky to water. Alongside the water framing the whole vista, the old brick buildings soon become blocky silhouettes of darkness that contain it all.