The sky was black glass reflecting nothing, but dazzling with billions of stars. At the crest of the hill, he lay in the damp grass. He was still. He gazed deeply into the infinite pool that bears the stars into being. Above him was a tiny smudge of light that was the closest galaxy. It was spinning, spinning, but so far away was it that one could look for a whole lifetime and not see it alter. There were galaxies out there, he knew, that whirled into each other like discs, blending in space without colliding.
