Driving Through Houston

Driving through Houston on Sunday reminded me of something I had read the previous night. The gray sky melted into the gray pavement and the gray bridges. Miles and miles of gray dreariness:
Nothing but a gray and formless mist, pulsing slowly as if with inchoate life. They could see nothing of the city through it, not because it was too dense but because it was—empty. No sound came out of it; no movement showed in it.”

— The Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag, Robert A. Heinlein

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