Today my old roof over the garage comes to mind. Stick topped and flat, I think it was tarmac. In the winter I used to watch the stars and moon move. Shango would hover over me, even though I wouldn't acknowledge him. One time he took me to another time and place. A place where the ground was bare and I couldn't breathe. There were craters and dust everywhere. He led me to a rock in the middle of the sphere. When I got there he grasped my hand tightly as possible in his shadowy ones and took me home. That was the last time Shango visited me.