Being lost is not a condition, but an ephemeral state, temporary. The sun had set hours before, and we wandered through town on a string of halogen streetlights, each one giving us a small hoop of comfort, of familiarity. Like a strobe laid out along a spatial dimension, each spot allowed us to assess where we were, piece by piece, and assemble the puzzle to see the implied image of our town and find our way home. With a ring this bright, you’re never without that little taste of home, never without a means to light your way.