Wood and metal beams, wires, pointed roofs, and uneven shafts of light have sliced up what would otherwise be an inviting view of gently rolling, moonlit hills under a star-speckled sky. The electric pulse that powers the artificial light hums like the motor of our car. The street lamp's glow competes with that of the moon, though only the lamp confuses moths and other flying insects, luring them to their doom. Three birds on a wire, another three on a lamp are echoed by three crosses on a distant hill. A couple birds take flight as two missals soar. Nature is mirrored by death and destruction as if it has gazed into some sort of fun house mirror. Zooming by, I see all and remain unmoved. After all, I've become accustomed to executions and forgotten the beauty of stars.
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