Smoke is not usually a sign you want to see at a gas (petrol) station.
Just off Route 70 there are streets of hemmed in bits of undeveloped land, fenced or unfenced, on the borders of commercial buildings, with weeds growing wild, just waiting for humans to get back out of the way.
Was it Stephen Shore who first started cataloguing American suburban commercial spaces? Whoever it was, was a genius. Since then it’s become a bit of a cliché as everyone’s piled into this space. Nevertheless, a short walk along route 70 this past weekend offered many such vistas, the empty parking lots and gray November sky capturing some of the feeling of vast emptiness this pandemic has created (to be fair, it was a Sunday).