On the hill to the west there is a radio tower. The tower climbs over 2000 feet, scraping the sky with its pointed antenna. I don’t know what it broadcasts. Nobody does. There’s probably not any radio waves left to send, so it just sits there, pretending to have a purpose.
But the world’s gone quiet. The roads are empty, while the sky is freckled with stars at night, devoid of planes or satellites. Uncommon when we were kids, but completely expected now, is the vision of the haze of galactic batches of gas and dust and distant suns through the naked eye. Continue reading