The night sky is a shy creature. We cover it’s shame by bathing our streets, neighborhoods, alleyways, and parking lots with the deep orange nicotine stain of street lights. Some flicker ominously, perhaps appearing as a red blinking dot within a virtual grid via the monitor in front of which sleeps an electrician who will fix it next week.
Many won’t even notice the veil, more like a garish hotel room curtain, because they spend their nights inside, where they can live in permanent day. Nighttime prevails darkness. Darkness entangles uncertainty. Uncertainty sheds fear, and anything we fear should be controlled, right? The stars are all still there, they just need to be found. To experience naked, virgin darkness, the kind Crepusculo seeks to capture on tape (SoundCloud), you need to drive until the city is just a glowing red scab in your peripheral. You need to turn off the radio and listen to the air being pushed aside; you gasp every time wind hits a tree along the side of the rode. You need to get out of your car and walk between the bark and try not to pay attention to where you walking until you have no idea where you are. Do it. Being scared is good for you.
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