There’s something undeniably romantic about a crescent moon in the clear evening sky, hovering over the rooftops in a scene straight from the cover of a ’50s ‘Amazing Stories’ magazine. Usually they have more than one moon, and the sky is pink, and the rooftops are either a barren wasteland or soaring, spiralling towers, but the important thing is the crescent moon, which is exotic and wonderful on this planet, let alone any other one.
When I was in Australia, I completely failed to notice that the moon waxes and wanes in the opposite direction than it does here in the northern hemisphere, or indeed that shadows fall in a different way. A friend from South Africa mentioned that this change threw her completely when she first came to England. It’s no surprise that she was affected by this more than me, given the vast and excessive amounts of artificial lighting we have here. I think it was only last December in Utah that I ever realised just how bright the full moon can be, and how sharp it can cast shadows.