I arrived in Chinwick just before noon on Monday, which wasn’t nearly as disorienting as it might have sounded to someone who wasn’t as well traveled as myself. It turns out that the fellow who kept checking his pocket watch had actually been hoping to catch it in the act of rolling back a day. I tried (and failed!) to stifle a laugh when I heard this news.

The sky was being kind to the city. Broad ribbons of sunlight had been allowed to break through the clouds and dapple its buildings with swaths of brightness, standing out in stark difference to the dim and dreary shadows where the sky has chosen to leave the sun’s light obscured and diffused. The world had become polka-dotted with contrast. Even going out into the bay, there were patches where the sun’s light was reflected about off of the waves.

Above my head, I could hear the hum of electrical current in the wires – the brazen song of hydroelectric energy as it danced its way into the homes of Chinwick.

It truly felt like a Monday, I thought to myself. A day of new beginnings. Of bright hope.