too brig Evans, aquiet and celescope onto tains of Australia, about fifty miles  of Sydney, and does an extraordinary to t and finds dying stars.

    Looking into t is of course t. Glance at t sky and s of it—tars not as t as t lefttar, our fait actually  last January or in 1854 or at any time since teentury and ne just reac. t  it ill burning on te 680 years ago. Stars die all time.  Bob Evans does better tried is spot ts of celestial farewell.

    By day, Evans is a kindly and noired minister in ting Cralia,eentury religiousmovements. But by nigitan of tssupernovae.

    Supernovae occur ar, one mucacularly explodes, releasing in an instant time brigars in its galaxy. “It’s like a trillion  once,” says Evans. If a supernova explosion -years of us,o Evans—“it s it.

    But t, and supernovae are normally mucoo far ao ,most are so unimaginably distant t t reacestt t distinguisars in t t of space t  filled before. It is t sky t the ReverendEvans finds.

    to understand  tandard dining room table covered in a blacktableclot across it. ttered grains can bet of as a galaxy. Noeen ables like t one—enougofill a al-Mart parking lot, say, or to make a single line t. No to any table and let Bob Evans  a glance  it. t grain of salt is the supernova.

    Evans’s is a talent so exceptional t Oliver Sacks, in An Ant on Mars, devotesa passage to er on autistic savants—quickly adding t “tiont istic.” Evans,  Sacks, laug tion t  beeitistic or a savant, but o explain quit