The First Time I Saw Them
I was six years old when the sky opened above our ridge. The light was unlike anything on Earth: alive, intelligent, and aware of me.
The Journal
Memories, encounters, and the attempt to put the impossible into words.
A Conversation Without Words
There are languages that do not use sound. It was not in my mind. It was in my entire being.
The City Beyond the Cloud Belt
They took me there: a place beyond the rings. It was not a ship, but a living city, a world in itself.
The Woman Beside the Window
Before I knew her name, I knew the way she waited. She never stood between me and the door.
The Garden That Kept Three Afternoons
A stream rose into the air. Three shadows crossed the same stone. My watch kept perfectly useless time.
A Seat at the Edge of the Council
I expected an assembly of answers. What I remember most clearly is an argument, and the care with which they listened.
The People Who Return
Their names came slowly. Their habits came first: the pauses, the gestures, the small things that made them individuals.
The Stairway in the Old Drawing
A museum photograph brought back a shape from my notebook. The resemblance was a question, and I wanted to keep it that way.
If the Sky Ever Answers
I used to imagine open contact as a single extraordinary day. Now I wonder about the morning after.
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