9.15pm and O’ Brien and Song is on the radio. A lovely piece ‘Lumino Voyage’ or something like that is playing but I can’t find a pen handy so dash upstairs to get one hoping the title will be repeated. I am on the stairs when I’m halted by a very bright, strange light streaming into the dark bedroom. The moon is huge, not round but rather the shape and texture of an unshelled, elongated peanut. It looks incredibly ill as if all vitality is drained from it and has difficulty remaining upright. Its face is a yellowish hue, its eyes smudged and a silent scream seemed to be coming from its open mouth. I heard this interview once – Lori Anderson I think it was – and she was artist in residence for a while in Nassau. And she said something about a plan that was afoot by the powers that be, to transport all human inhabitants to the moon and leave earth behind to be used as a toxic dumping ground for all our waste. No human would ever do that to the earth, would they? No human would ever inflict such a human transfer on the poor moon, would they? I must have heard it wrong. However looking at the moon, I wondered if he had heard it too and thus his terrible sickly, horrified appearance tonight.