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.