You looked out the window, into the horizon, into the half-visible sun sinking into the edge of the earth when we arrived at a stoplight.
Let's say, for a moment, that you are being held in the hand of some giant beast. Although the beast's hand is soft and comfortable, you're feeling anything but. This isn't King Kong. In fact, you have no idea who the beast is. All you know is that you're small enough to be held in the beast's hand and that's exactly what's going on at this precise moment. So let's imagine that.
The shapes jot out at sharp angles, holding their milky clear, glasslike form for all eternity, never budging.