On days when the sun is high and the sky is thinly clouded over, the light trembles on the edges of the clouds. It gives them a molten aspect, as if they’re about to collapse into full liquid ruin. This makes me dubious about the sky’s reliability. I’m of half the mind that the sky isn’t just a mirror, dutifully reflecting the passage of our seasons. Rather, it might be a one-way glass. From our perspective, we are fooled into gazing up complacently at the sun in its course and the stars in their paths. From the opposite point of view, it allows a close inspection of our lives, a vast and giant eye that peers down on us from behind the mirror of the sky, waiting patiently for a day without a sunrise.