Yesterday evening, as I started my walk, I looked to the west expecting to see Venus as usual — which has been exceptionally bright this month.
Instead an evil looking light glared at me low on the horizon. It looked belligerent as it twinkled red at me through the brown haze of street lights and dust.
Mars? I wondered.
I wasn’t sure for I have never seen it this low or this bright.
Curiosity aroused, I stopped. Paused Endomondo and the binaural beats.
For a split second, I wondered whether it was the landing light of some aircraft. But the direction didn’t seem right.
Started a sky-mapping app and pointed it at the light to be certain.
It was Mars alright.
The app showed Venus to be there as well — as expected. It should have been visible immediately to the left of Mars.
Eerily enough, she was nowhere to be seen though.
How does one hide a planet? What was Mars up to? Shining through the dust when Venus failed?
Weirdly, I felt spooked.
I closed the sky-map. Restarted Endomondo and resumed walking to a theta binaural beat.
Even as I walked away, I knew:
This is one of those fleeting moments in time that remain as a snippet of memory long after the rest of this day, month and year have all blurred into the distant past.
Sure enough, I have looked at Mars enough times.
