On the horizon a flock of starlings undulates through the skies before disappearing with the late sun. The quiet is broken only by the rustle of the wind stalking slowly through the grass, an owl stirs in the trees in the distance and begins to hoot mournfully. I stand alone in the crisp twilight looking up at the rising moon. It’s often in these transitory, quiet, introspective moments where one seems to be most honest with themselves. In this in-between space we are truly ourselves, face to face with the realities of our emotions, obsessions, spiritual longing, and serene melancholy. As I stand there, my mind wanders, and I can’t help but wonder how many other people are standing outside at that very moment also looking up, connected by these same skies, and this same moon.