Coming home last night from the theatre and a bar where I drank a little bit too much, but didn't feel drunk, and up a hill I climbed looking up at the night sky in the east and saw the moon. I was awestruck at how close it seemed behind St. Boniface's tower.
I didn't have my tripod in my bag or even the right camera for shooting it but in the state I was in --all wobbly and not at all so steady on my feet and yet full of joy and adventure and capable of taking on the devil if we came face to face with bloodshot eyes-- I snapped as much of the moon I admired as I could.
Later at home in that big empty space I have temporally moved into with a terrible view and no tall slender Hilton and the only sound I hear is the sound I make, I shared an image of my moon shot with my dear friend and realized that he knows he means more to me than it--the moon...though, I enjoy staring at the moon and wondering all kind of crazy things like how long would I last up there?
All alone. On an empty moon and no air except a mask that could give out of oxygen before I could say or think "Sam Sam Sam...Samuel! Help me!" at any moment or before my mind would just completely crack up into total madness from the lack of air and loneliness from just a view of a blue earth far away in the distance...