Oklahoma Day 9: I was hoping for more stars once I moved back to the country, but it’s been too cloudy and rainy to see much. I’m sure it will come but I’m impatient for them to arrive. Our cities scream back at the night sky, an amplified reflection, and sometimes nothing at all gets through. Once, while visiting my hometown of Bushnell from Chicago, I’d forgotten what a dark sky looked like. I was on a late night run and happened to look up right at the spot where Mr. Alexander, the art teacher, died suffering a heart attack while driving to school. I think I’d never been stopped in my tracks before. And yes, they were beautiful and humbling and vast but that wasn’t what struck me. How angry, I thought, the starlight must be. How angry when, exhausted, faint, and stumbling to the finish, it finds itself upstaged by a thousand watt halogen at a Chrysler dealership. In Las Vegas the spire of light atop the Luxor Casino pyramid has created its own ecosystem. First insects, then bats to feast upon them. A tiny sun, drawing into itself an orbit of life from the blackness.