Journal Juice 1 | Overcast

The persistent overcast of our Midwestern autumn sky is nothing short of an adversary. Its stunning monochrome of colorless oppression aims to maim the ability to ascend above an intermediate outlook. Optimism becomes elusive and joy seems just as ethereal. It’s days on end this time of year and the overcast is stubbornly unyielding as if it has waged a personal vendetta upon the soul, the inner being which craves for that glorious candescence during daylight hours. It is only below and within that transient yet nurturing light that a body can thrive and flourish, and be with sound mind and intentions. An opaque and sunless sky is really no sky at all when one regards it like a canopy of restriction. In my wayward mind I imagine this to be akin to a forsaken locale under a dome. Which is to mean that I am effectively an insect trapped in…