The candle is optimally situated. The bowl of quinoa porridge with collard greens and button mushrooms steams in the foreground, illuminated enough so that one may design a fortunate arrangement of tasty morsels on one’s spoon. In the background, in fact wrapped around and above the cozy bowl of porridge – everywhere the bowl is not – stars. I am eating at the edge of the cosmos tonight.
Polite waves lap at the sand not more than 4 feet from my booties. It’s 10:10 or rather 22:10, 2:10 utc.
My neighbors at Barnes Park campground are snug in their pop up campers or tents, each with thier own version of Hello World parked nearby. Are we sharing the same night, or am I alone in the theater of stars, gateway to the universe?
Before bed, I visit the glistening facilities at the campground. Is this cheating?