One evening in San Diego, I stepped outside and looked up, captivated by two lights hanging in the night sky. They resembled a small constellation, each moving in harmony as if connected by an invisible thread. These lights began to rotate slowly clockwise, pivoting around each other with an eerie grace. Their subtle motion was mesmerizing — a silent dance against the dark canvas of the southeast horizon.
Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the lights vanished. No trace remained in the sky, leaving only the lingering sense of wonder and mystery. This brief, fifteen-second encounter—strange, beautiful, and inexplicable—etched itself into my memory. It was an uncanny moment that felt like a fleeting glimpse into the unknown, sparking the imagination far beyond the stars.
Such encounters challenge the normal, urging us to question the boundaries of what we see in the night sky. The eerie rotation of these twin lights, their sudden disappearance, and the quiet solitude of San Diego’s evening have left me pondering the mysterious movements that sometimes unfold above us, just out of reach of explanation.