nox ruit et fuscis tellurem amplectitur alis
Vergil, Aeneid 8.369
On the darkest day of the year, in the middle of rural America, it’s black outside. Not even grayscale. Just black, invisible floor to invisible ceiling. In the city, streetlamps and headlights preserve at least outlines. When was the last time late-night diners couldn’t see Broadway’s sidewalks? When did they last step cautiously, nervous they might trip over black trash bags set out on white concrete?