He didn't have any opinions and he was saying to himself, god damn he loves the tones he can take with himself.
As he drove home on the back road, he was by himself, no one in the car with him or on the road passing him the other way. He remembered the guy he worked for when he first moved there. The one who had the life-size crucifix in his back yard.
Not with the way it was built, it couldn't support the weight of someone, like it wasn't built from thick enough cuts or planks of wood, lumber.
Life-size but not 100% life-like, as in accurate, he supposed.
In the morning the next day, green or blue–gray frost covering up all the golden grass in the valley at 9:25ish on the way to get some coffee with the moon still out.
Easy to see. The break in the tree line because of the road.
He sees symbolism in people seeing or seeking symbolism in things, thinking about something he overheard. The dried leaves all over the car floor everywhere like fish flakes, you know, how he can smell it in his car. And all in the way clothing or something like a hat becomes trash as soon as it gets left somewhere public, texture peels from bark, and things just happen or are because they followed what happened before or whatever just was.