The Moon, the pseudo-Sun of the night sky, which derives its illumination entirely from the Sun it imitates, always shows us one face. The other side, the “dark” side, always faces away: like the back of one’s head when one looks in the mirror, or like the self when one reflects on who one really is, or like the status of a relationship or a situation when one regards it objectively.

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I wrote this in order to participate in the mythical existence for a moment. What was it like? I’ve trained my reflective mind to admit: I don’t know.