On a winter night in Little Rock, Arkansas, USA, I saw a large, orange full moon rising, low and bright. I rushed to a church that I knew had a view from a hill, arriving barely in time to catch the moon through tree branches, still orange. Lit artificially by spotlights trained on the church steeple, the branches stand out in high contrast, yet against the moon’s natural light, the artificial light cannot sustain. The branches recede into full blackness, or else they become tinged more by the moon than the spotlights.
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