Silhoetted Against the Monochrome Dusk

Friday evening.
Curtains closed against the sun - is it sunny out there? I can't tell as my curtains are yellow too, a jaundice sunlight, slightly stained by the rain and winter.
The House of Bedsits is silent. Even the road outside the window sound slike miles away. A soporific distance, drowsy like afternoons when I was a child at my grandparents house in the countryside.
Could fall asleep here.
An image recurs to me throughout the day, of a black-and-white landscape of trees and semi-deserted, semi-industrial-rural spaces, fields and tight clusters of woods, and on the horizon, ragged ferris wheels, silhouetted against the monochrome dusk.
The air would taste of fire smoke and October, burning leaves and sleep.