Within any alien landscape, full of unfamiliar sights,
sounds and smells – one is nonetheless able to find
links to previous human experience. A patch of grass
showcasing dandelions, a pigeon strutting along a window
ledge, or flies circling a glass all gesture from the
realm of the familiar.

There are always commonalities, somewhere something is
known that can be used as a bridge to one’s surroundings.
Children are the same here in some ways – curious,
blissfully ignorant, able to make play with whatever is
present, which either illicits joy or extreme concentration
that is revealed in their eyes, even when they shine past
scars and smears of dirt.

For me, the sky at night is my bridge, as I peer up at the
heavens and think on the day. I know hundreds of lands
and peoples gaze at the same stars I do, while Orion and
the Charioteer look back at me, assuring me that from
their perch my home is still in sight and all is well.

-- by Steve McKennon 10/17/02