Waiting for me in the ringing chamber are ropes, draped in the air like a giant arachnid.

Playing with a toddler is giving me a fresh view of faith.

The shiny surface above me is like a living Escher drawing.

In the cellar to get laundry, I am once again surprised by the sight of ripe cherry tomatoes.

The Empire State Building looms outside my window like a giant hypodermic needle.

This morning, my pareidolia is acting up.

The candle appears like an apparition in my darkened room, aglow without a flame.

I ask Kim simply, “What do you look for?”

I can pinpoint the moment when my dark mood began to lift.

The sculpture caught me by surprise, like some malevolent spider on the wall.

As I wander around this small, tourist town, I just keep thinking, “Why lighthouses?”

This is the best 8:18 moment in a century.