She stood there in the darkening field, wheat grazing her fingers. This time of year, the house to the west, with its dark little copse of trees, was directly under the path of the sinking sun. As the space between the roof and the sun shrank, she imagined that soon they would touch. And maybe this time, the house would catch on fire. Maybe a small lick of smoke would erupt into curling flames that crawled up the kitchen cabinets and ran through the walls and up into the rafters. Maybe the woman who lived inside would escape, wheezing, out the backdoor, fine. 

Maybe her husband, who had just moved in, would get trapped. But, instead, the sun passed by the house and just disappeared.

This is the story of the woman in the hayfield and the one moment that rips open her life, revealing the viscera inside. The photographs that accompany it show her landscape, both internal and otherwise. Together, they tell the story of a day that will come to define the future.

All writing by Vivian Ewing. All photos by Dylan Hausthor.

Digital Offset on Newsprint with an inkjet poster.