Night comes on an inflatable raft. Riding the turbulence of a gazillion star bursts. Nights are amazing. They're so full of illumination. Like pinholes in a black tent.
Up above me is a densing of the illumination. It's shaped like a river. Flowing yet frozen. Like an icicle. We call it the Akash Ganga, the Ganga of the Skies. The Milky Way.
The night sky here unlike the city affords a view of this amazing river. I see this river cross paths with the Ganga, no less celestial in the Indian imagination and no less radiant.
The two rivers of light form a sort of clumsy 'X'. Every night I find myself in the crux of these two Gangas. One I can hear, the other I can see.
Every night I watch and hear a Light-and-Sound show arranged just for me to behold and take with me to my tent.
I think I am lucky.