heading for oblivion, we race along a lonely highway. why do we smile? fools have no wings, reaching for the sun, an old broken chariot, swinging across a summer sky. we look for safety, and it still eludes us; we are so reckless. colours fade in our eyes just before darkness comes. we are left with black and white and shadows. i look south along the lake remembering my little dog, enthusiastic hiking friend when i see this photograph. i guess he saw no colour. his foolishness was limited to trusting me. we have no limit.