The highway howls.

It does.

Even though it runs several hundred metres away, I can hear it howling.

It howls all day and all night. It quiets a bit a night, but it still whines like an injured animal.

And there's no stars here.

I used to pick out stars from the heavens, but there's no stars here.

All the light pollution from the steet lights and the neon lights and the campus lights and the security lights bleed into the sky and I can't see the stars.

At the beginning of the year we were at September Crown and Conrad stood, staring at the sky littered brightly with millions of stars, the aurora borialis flaming green and blue streaks along the northern horizon.

"Why're you staring at the sky, Conrad?"

"I can't see the stars in Red Deer."

Now I know what he means.

And the stars are gone and the highway howls and everything is bathed in a fake amber moonlight from all the lights.

When it's overcast, the reflection off the clouds makes it brighter than twilight.

It almost feels like you can see in the dark.

But you can't.

Before&After