scary stories

~detail: Waiting for Truth to Change

~detail: Waiting for Truth to Change

Sitting atop a grassy hill on the edge of the thicket before the tall trees, we would tell scary stories during the chilly nights at summer youth camp.  Year after year we’d sit captured in tales of The Marfa Lights.  Something about the lights appearing on the horizon at night.  Dividing.  Circling.  Encroaching.  Trapped.  An urban myth at best.  Still, depending on the story teller, the possibility exists…I guess.

I remember the first time I learned about molecules.  Invisible little things that make up the things we see.  Ions and neutrons.  Positive and negative charges.  It makes sense…I guess.  If I don’t believe, that doesn’t mean it isn’t so.