I took the dog out to the garden late last night. She turned left to bark at something in the forest. I turned right to escape the canopy and look at the stars. Despite the accessibility of this treasure, I rarely make time to tip my head back. Perhaps more often, I chastise myself for this mismanagement of time.

I inhaled. I opened my arms. I entered wonder.

Not 5 seconds had passed before I thought about “aliens”.

My ancient and mysterious experience of regarding the sky has been colonized by Hollywood’s torrent of terror. In which I rarely partake! Yet its scenarios hang as a psychic barrier to perception and revelation out here in the wild midnight garden, no less dense than the canopy of foliage which blocked my view from the terrace.

In every direction we may gaze, there are stories –real or fantastical– that imbricate fear into our thoughts, foiling imagination and agency.