Out there, with barely any light or people to pollute the atmosphere, you can travel back in time as light from long dead stars and ancient celestial bodies finally reach the Earth, hit the walls of your retinas, and for a second they still exist, aren’t forgotten, remain a part of the universe still. And then they’re gone. It’s the most amazing experience, if you truly comprehend what you’re looking at. That’s how my brain works. I can’t look at something and simply see pretty pinpricks of flashing lights in the sky. I see burning hydrogen and helium, vast seas of nitrogen, oxygen and iron. I see death and destruction and life and creation all at once, and it’s a symphony of chaos that clean robs me of breath every single time I witness it. The same thing happens to me now as I stand over Freddy Clough’s body as he dies on the uneven concrete flooring of the underground parking lot of my employer’s apartment building. I see more than a beaten man taking his last breaths.
