the cumulonimbus clouds rise above the blue garage, the pale chimney, the quiet life blossoming like a flag placed atop a hill to signify progress, movement towards the future. a sign of hope, of continued life even when the clock ahead cruelly reads “time spent with family is time well spent” and it burns like the unused fireplace below it, nonexistent embers just as real as cherished memories with a family that doesn’t try. the windows here are big, bigger than at grange street and the clouds shine brighter than the sun, but it doesn’t dissuade me from trying to discern every single detail in them, where the shadows end and the blue blue sky starts. even when the mountains crumble into dust, old ground replaced by fresher dirt pushed up by the core, the space above remains. as above, so below; this is what triumph looks like.