I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the modern night, by the complacent dance of airplanes in the big, open, uninhabited sky. I am astounded by the unnatural movements that dominate the once whimsical night. The crafted zig zag pattern of overhead headlights feels like science fiction eerie in harmony, amazing with the complete overhaul of world above.
Nature has been transformed away from lure of the night sky mystery into a different meaning here in the heart of the city.
The patterns of the airplanes are distinctive, not abstract like the twinkle of the starry night. Art is about making mistakes, science does not understand this concept. Art is messy and bold, physics is well defined and stubborn with its limits. Science has definitive rules, natures is creative in breaking these carefully ordered and well orchestrated structures of definition.
It barren up there now, in the lonely sky, save for the flying machines. Modernity and technology may be convenient, but they lack the luster of the dreaming night, the spontaneity of the stars spark, the complexity of astrology’s secrets, the depth of the canvas that looms above. The nation of galaxies that had been a part of humanity’s eye is now a series of dashes.