That feeling, walking through an alley of old town concrete and brick. Hunched, with hands shoved in pockets, moving further into the bleached sepia fog where the world's out of focus and small or too far away. Sweating in cold weather, bracketed by a sepia sky's black snow. Rumbling noises in scattered spots, like pigeons. Born under a bad star.
"Sepia" appears in two consequtive sentances. Not very nice.
Yeah, I wondered if that would work.
A wild sage appears from sepia shadows. The mood is draped in fail.