I often try to imagine the perspective of our ancient ancestors.
They looked up at the sky and understood that the Sun reveals the Earth to the eyes. The Sun shows us what the night hides.
The moon comes along and it presents a different perspective that the Sun can not. The night shows us what the Sun hides. It reveals the Universe that encapsulates us and it gives us the ability to relate ourselves to something as distant as the stars.
Our curiosity never stops pushing. Mars has water, there is enough DNA in an average person’s body to stretch from the sun to Pluto and back 17 times, we have photographs of planetary systems in their infant years- our technology is the only thing keeping us from knowing how many hundreds of billions of galaxies there are in the Universe.
I feel lucky and unlucky to be stuck in this specific window of time.
My fear of math and impatience has always shied me away from sciences, but my curiosity, always hungry, pushes me to search. I daydream about working on projects side by side with scientists and feel determined to make that a reality.
In the summer, Chris and I took walks that would last all day. We would walk around the city talking, looking and ‘expressing our freedom’ by walking up green patches instead of taking the sidewalks or provided paths. I took pictures of all the different and similar kinds of people I encountered. On our way back home we stole flowers from parking lots and upper-class neighborhoods.
Those walks to the lake and green patches did my mind and body good. Being in a sea of brown and gray blocks too long without being able to run around an open green field, or stare out at a blue horizon gets to me.
We go to Michigan and Wisconsin, and there I’m reminded of how much time I really spend in the city.
We venture to the beach after midnight and I see a front row seat to the roaring waves. There’s a sign telling us not to climb, but night whispers its assurance. We sat for hours until the waves were so loud we couldn’t hear each other talk.