Its always worse in the winter. The glow or glare of yellow, dingy light. They hide behind transluscent panels. Or squat on lampposts. Spewing out photons powered by an endless stream of electrons on wires that weave back to Three Mile Island.
They are the only light I get. Rarely, a peak out a window teases me. Turns out the sun was out there, boldly, all day long. But the waning hours of winter are blinded by a dayful of work.
In my head I'm out there. Running through snow-covered trails. Camping with my kids. Sitting next to a campfire with my Better Half.
Those yellow bulbs motivate me. Someday I'll take back the day. I'll take back my life.
Someday those dim illuminators won't own me.
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