Hoek

Here at the edge, waiting for the ship, looking out across the baleful night.  The lights of the industrial complex on the other side are white and orange, but only the orange ones are picked up by the overcast sky, glowering intensely.  And the water, half river, half sea, the water performs a strange trick with the light, it steals and swallows all the bright yellow tones of the sky, and reflects back a blood orange red.

The water moves constantly, rolling and roiling, a twitching throat, and the red painted barriers in front of me are contrasted sharply against the white snow covered quay, it is not an auspicious start to a journey.  The wind whips up the petrochemical flare and the whole sky flickers.  I shiver, and hope that the homecoming will be warmer than this.