Sense of foreboding

Most of my evening runs pass along well lit streets or across moonlit fields, but one circuit takes in this gloomy tunnel under the dual carriageway, decorated with tasteless, meaningless graffiti. I hate graffiti at the best of times; it's rarely artistic or expressive in my opinion.

The ugly scrawls serve to make this simple utilitarian underpass appear to be a dangerous, or threatening place, accentuated by the single light at each end. I hurry along, pleased to be out in the open again.