I remember lying in bed as a little girl and staring at the ceiling when I couldn't sleep. If I stared at it long enough and let my eyes glaze over, I felt as though the room was closing in on me and expanding all at once. I imagined myself ant-like in size, aimlessly floating and flailing through space, trying to propel my way through as though riding an invisible bicycle. The magnitude of having no boundaries and no direction left me feeling anxious and very much alive; grounded, yet completely detached from any sense of reality. It was a surreal feeling that I wanted to cling to and absorb with every essence of my being, but it would invariably slip away like a balloon snatched up by the wind. These days, when I cast my gaze into the night's sky as far and wide as my human eyes can see, I feel much the same way... small, but a part of something so much bigger that I'll always welcome with childlike wonder.