As we drive into a Canadian panorama, the sun casts a shadow of our car onto the stubble of wheat. To the west, this playful sun pauses, though evening beckons, and across from it a rising moon punctuates a sideways glance. All of us in motion, we vector across horizontal terrain, bisecting some invisible demarcation that lies underneath a mapped highway, feeling the lines of longitude pull us farther north. What other invisible lines direct the motion of two spheres, one left of us, one right above sienna splashed soil, winter fields? Speed forces trees into blips and we race the amber crest of a day and a shadow of ourselves escaping the blur. Something pulls us through this puppetry of shadows and gasps to a destination of icy Quebecois streets and St. Lawrence riverbanks once a new sun sets and we find the halo of another moon. by Amy Nawrocki

art by Donald Zirilli