Yesterday, sitting at the top of a hill (altitude, 1200 meters) in Spain with my sister and a group of her college classmates from the 1980s, as well as dozens of other people all around us, I watched the moon eat the sun. We all had the special glasses, and we all knew the timing of the sun-eating, so a moment before it started, I put on those glasses and then saw that first little nibble. That was enough to put me into a state of meditative fascination that continued for a time without time until the sun had disappeared. When the moon began spitting the sun out, we headed downhill. (Andrew Shields, #111Words, 13 August 2026)