The moon looked like a giant stone brushing the treetops as I drove home tonight. Craters across its surface seemed magnified, prominent against the dijon yellow hue the moon gets when viewed at that angle through our ozone layer, so low in the horizon. If I had pulled over, I may have been able to count the depressions, mapped this natural mandala. I could not help but think of the Flintstones because it seemed too large to be real and the craters were so clear, they looked artificial, drawn as backdrop to animation.
Ancient, cosmic beauty? Ridiculous cartoon? Why would my uncensored thoughts juxtapose the two? Is it profound? Does it mean something? My left hemisphere has just barged to the forefront and informed me it's my way of staying awake at high speed while travelling down the freeway. Sweet.
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