Lost Signals Report Edit
I worked in solitude. . . There is a certain slant of light (is there not?) that suggests the presence of the larger universe. Perhaps this occurs sometime before twilight, whenever that may be. There is the orange glow of the sun whose ridiculously-traveled-through cold space–approximately 8.3 minutes–rays reach us, as if happiness could be delayed any longer, not even one-second longer, than that. Bright. Brighter yet. . . . in my own formal way
As these lost moments, lost signals, arrive here, their particular beauty and strangeness remind us not of who we are, but who we might become. Our better, brighter selves, waiting for us to remember. –M. Sanders, M. S., E. O.