We went to the edge of the world tonight. And along the way we saw someone vacuum-cleaning the pavement. And nowhere near as many stars as there used to be. And three cyclists speeding along so intently, it looked as if cycling was their form of prayer.
Stars limned pine trees. And the sea, so black, was limned with white. I looked behind me, at all the lights of the township, and then ahead of me to the silent darkness of the sea. For years, I lived in that darkness, and whenever I stand at its edge with bright gold electric lights behind me, I wonder at the sadness, and strangeness, of living in this noisy, overbuilt place. I remember all over again how magical it was to sleep amongst wild stones and sea-washed forest roots. And I wish the whole world had that.
On the way home, a ghost walked with us awhite, footsteps shuffing, shadow lying amongst ours.