Just how am I supposed to sleep? Once again flying over the most north-easterly point of Canada and out toward the darkness and loneliest stretch of the North Atlantic Ocean. Sleep would only cheat me of this opportunity to stand at the footsteps of God. My face up against the window of the plane so close I can feel the warmth of my own breath.
This place is the best-kept secret, the edge of space and doorway to forever. It's a place where I wish I could spend more time, where secrets are locked away and promises are kept for safekeeping. The distant stars and planets, each has a name though I can't tell one from another from here. They're all beautifully anonymous.
We have only the briefest of time in such close company. Separated by glass and unimaginable distance, like a prison visit without words I touch the window as a gesture of contact. These moments are pearls among the pebbles, like the hours of a butterfly's short life after an almost unfathomable transformation, and in this darkness, no true color is more true than the next.