These hazy bluish-gray days have painted a world to match the frequency I feel my soul has settled upon lately. Trees appear out of the fog like frozen shadowy skeletons and, as far as I can tell, they are all that seem to survive the dense meandering wall of grey. It is suffocating. The air is void of sound, save the crunch of my boots on uneven gravel road. Even the small bits of color that this mild winter has graciously spared has lost its cheerfulness. How have I ended up, once again, in a colorless world?
