Something about the light of the moon. As the something is happening, I realize it's just like the piece in which Annie Dillard writes about the total eclipse she witnessed (I almost want to include some of her writing of it here, because it describes what I was feeling so perfectly, but I need to find my own words). The people around me were just as unsure as I was. We kept looking at the sky and there was a profound, shared feeling of dread mixed with excitement. I knew it was the moon, it had to do with its light. But that was all I could understand--that, and that huge sweeping changes would arrive in mere minutes, and no one was prepared. The colors were changing, the shades of everything turned glossy, and I felt myself grinning involuntarily because the rush of not knowing, of dread, of being thrilled to my marrow, was so strong.
The night before: two men, unfamiliar to me, were chasing me. Finally, one of them, a tall blond man, made peace with me. I still did not trust him. I could tell they were untrustworthy, especially together.
Somewhere between the last three nights: S. had his arm around me. I could feel his height, recognize his arm about my shoulders, and I realized how comforting it was to be near him again. The weight of him drew me closer.
