laundromat

i love the light of laundromats. the color is unique to them, like the stark

fluorescence of hospitals, or the rubber smell endemic to elementary school gyms.

the light of a laundromat is an inescapable yellow, pale and watery: a thin, filmy

yellow that seems unchanged by sunshine or darkness. and yet there is a warmth

to it; through the smear of the window glass, the fishbowl light washes bleakly on the

faces of its denizens, but it is comfortable in its offer. pausing in the dull glow, they

pay me no notice; i pull my coat tighter and continue through the dusk.