FROM THE EDITOR

The other night, quite late, we walked across the abandoned silent road to the abandoned silent park. There was no one else around and we lay there on the damp grass, looking up at the sky. The stars were sharp and dazzling. The air smelled fresh, in the same way it does when rain falls on warm concrete. There was not a sound. I’ve been looking up at the sky a lot. Day or night. It’s an antidote to some of the more alarming Covid-19 reckons I’ve heard this week, to the harsh reality. Looking up at the sky that night, full of wonder at the calm and clarity reminded me of a story Canvas featured last year, by Michelle Langstone, who went on a cosmic road trip with journalist Naomi Arnold, author of an extraordinary book, Southern Nights (Harpercollins, $65). Arnold observes in the book, “As technology has advanced in the intervening centuries, the stars have become both closer to us and further away. Though we know more about the universe, we’re less personally connected than humans have ever been.” This week, Al Brown also riffs on the theme of the unintended benefits to the natural world, saying in our new column with top chefs, that Mother Nature has given us all a whack with a stick. And finally, this week’s cover image of a little girl utterly focused on her Easter egg was taken in Cardiff, in 1938. Soon after came the “war to end all wars”. In this “war”, if it all gets too much I recommend looking up to the sky. You may not find the answers there, but you might find equanimity and you might feel closer to the stars.