no element is more confirming of my travels than the stars; looking up, i find culture shock.
up at the cottage in the cariboo, i had believed what i saw were the clearest and most populated skies. yet without the typical and condensed north american light pollution, the clear nights in chile consistently proved me wrong.
the beauty of this sky is it’s unfamiliarity and reflection; looking up, i don’t recognize the constellations and not one infinite source of illumination is directing my way. not only reassuring of my distance from home, their accompaniment in the sky also instilled comfort, as if i believed they were within a connecting view of a single someone whom i knew. and as if working together in such a sense of dense clarity, their glow supports my aimless vulnerable wander below; a compliment and positive light to the definition of a vagabond.
