A mixture of the great beauty and ominous portent, Rusty. The stalks in the field speak of death, while the potentially toxic clouds coming from the towers drift lazily in their delicate pink coloration. A stark reminder of our vulnerability at the hands of technology gone askew. Speaking of askew, the horizon seems tilted -- which is either an accident or a subtle but deliberate Rustian hint implying that something may not be quite right here.
