“Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage against the dying of the light.”
Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2017
I’ve taken up the habit of wandering around the city’s pulsating streets and cracked sidewalks long after the sun has been gobbled up by the nearby mountain range.
I forget what surprises surface beneath a canopy of obsidian, breaking through the yawning darkness with vivid colors of neon glowing keenly against a black backdrop.
A technology developed over a century ago, these cylinders of gleaming glass generate an entire spectrum of colored light, illuminated by the flow of electricity igniting gasses trapped inside a thin, transparent tube.
I forget not to take for granted how the image of a glowing bluebird or a boring word like lunch can be made to dance on the delicate surface of the eyes, reminding me to smile (if only a little) as I roam through a dying nightfall.
Photographs and Non-fictitious Scribbles copyright Mike Yost 2017
Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2016