Climbing out of the dark embrace of the tree-shrouded road, I was so taken with the vastness of the shimmering, starlit sky that I killed my headlights halfway up to the house and continued the rest of the way without them. It was an almost mystical experience; instead of missing the intense brightness of the car lights, I was overwhelmed by the sky’s generosity. I could see everything without shadow, without glare, and most impressive of all, without color. The landscape’s chromatic vitality had been drained to a mere hint, making me feel as if I were intruding upon a huge and empty stage of a long-closed theater. I got out of the car, closing the door quietly, letting the sensation carry me for a few moments longer. It was fitting that I could feel ethereally suspended; I’d had so little sleep over the last few nights, my brain felt like warm mush, and I was here to reach back through time and to make amends. “Joe?” I peered along the length of the deck above me.
