A flight bargain and an agreement to be a complete disaster took place in the early hours of Monday, November 30, known as a Beaver Moon. To my surprise, it wasn't until the night before takeoff that I would be up in the sky, brushing up against the final lunar eclipse of 2020. But in all actuality, I was just heading to Florida that morning.

The agreement I mentioned is part of a series of withdrawals/escapes as a result of quarantining from Covid. Don't ask me why or how I justify breaking away just know that I've been breaking down for quite some time now. It's a private matter and a very obvious one to me. This is how I cope.

It made sense that we would land on the Fort Lauderdale tarmac to pouring rainwater. Something in our galaxy had splintered off in those early hours. If there are celestial emotional levies in the sky they had released their waterworks from the split/tearaway caused by the eclipse. I read somewhere that two-star clusters known as Pleiades and Hyades had just the previous night depart themselves from the constellation of Taurus. Where they have agreed to go or leave things at is a mystery to me.

It's with this awareness and sentiment that I exit ahead and on a journey of a concerted effort to keep documentation of what is to come.