The sky had fallen. The air cooled and cheering seekers spoke from the bushes. We were amongst the living, those dwellers of the umbra.

We, a crew of two photographers, a documentary filmmaker, and a writer, had traveled from Toronto to Shawnee National Forest in Southern Illinois to bear witness to total solar eclipse. Though we had seen countless images of eclipses, none of us had ever witnessed one firsthand. This 1200+ km journey was about replacing an image with an experience to which none of us were certain how we would feel during and after such a celestial event.

I felt afraid in the blue hue that replaced the relentless sun. Familiar faces looked as if nocturnal, glowing in strangeness reminiscent of moonlight. Cheering strangers full of excitement seemed to mask uneasiness to the unnaturally-placed darkness. My heart raced as if an ancient fear was released from my DNA. I felt the animal turn within me as if memories from past generations came to life.

This sight that manifested before us has long intrigued us as animals in mystery and fear than it had with enlightenment. Laughter and excitement seemed oddly-placed for such an ancient form of disaster.