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Continuum 1 Sometimes when you stop to gaze up at the night sky, another pauses with you, the stars a common focal point. The memory of an old friend points to the Dippers, a piece of the puzzle he once learned on a Scout camping trip. A ghost arm hugs you tight around your waste, cold stars above needle sharp, your last night together once again nearing its end. You contemplate what some writer might have seen, eyes upturned, all those doorways to other worlds begging the imagination. Future astronauts will draw closer to the stars. Does proximity breed too much familiarity? Do dreams become lost in a vacuum? The night is crowded. So many ghostly stargazers huddling together with the living, the night sky a true continuum. —G. O. Clark
