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This is a scene I often approach at sunset, leaving the city after work. The car curls onto the turnpike in New Jersey and that initial stretch of highway lays bare the sky to multiple smoke stacks off its shoulder. They off-gas steam and signal a stage in the resource refinery process I don’t know about but pay witness to like a sad miracle. Smoke plumes bruise the light cascading through its particulates. Unbelievable arrays of color emerge against the pale atmosphere like a bludgeon. I drive through a sublime that births and eats itself at once. More smoke blots out large swathes of the …