Technology, Books and Other Neat Stuff

Lying back in the hotel pool tonight, after a long day of meetings, briefings and writing, I saw a line drawn across the clear night sky. Bright yellow, the colour of fire, it drew a ruler across the heavens from east to west, a bright flash that lasted a fraction of a second - more persistence of vision than anything else.

It wasn't fireworks from some theme park show, nor was it an airliner, or a rocket launch. This was the mark of a lump of space junk: a pebble, a handful of ice, or just a piece of rubbish thrown there by man. It doesn't matter what it was, it just matters what we call it.

A shooting star.

A fireball.

Or maybe we should just wonder at the beauty of the heavens, something we usually hide behind garish sodium vapours and bright tungsten.

Beauty can be found in the strangest of places, for the strangest of reasons.

Take the bottom of a fountain, down at the bottom of a Las Vegas hotel atrium. All eyes are attracted to the hanging umbrellas and the falling light patterns that pretend to be rain. But if you look at the fountain, you'll see ripples running across the water, reflecting and refracting the mirror tile mosaic and the bright metal of tossed coins.

It made a marvelous subject for photography. Every picture was different, every one was bright and vibrant.







Palazzo Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada
April 2009