You also seem to have a knack for writing. Reading the beginning, I got the
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
feel.
Much like how poetry will mean different things for different generations. Perhaps 100 years down the line nature would mean vicious tyrannical entity.
>It was January, and the weather was fucking bleak.
I was hooked from the first sentence. Please keep doing more of these.