It’s 6:25 am… (I’ll stop writing for a second to admire the view.)
Have you ever noticed, we create stars on the ground? By we I mean humans, and by stars on the ground I mean city lights. They look like a vague imitation of stars; not as magnificent but surely beautiful.
I love a sky filled with stars. If someone granted me one impossible wish, I would wish for the sky to be filled with stars every where I went, or for them to appear on specific occasions in my life, to let me know something special is about to happen.
It’s amazing, isn’t it? How something so distant can be considered so beautiful. Something that eventually becomes space dust is special to some humans. We’ve made out of them a romantical statement, a beauty concept, we’ve admired them for centuries. It’s strangely poetical.
What is it about stars that makes us love them?
Somewhere, I read that we have most of the components of a star in ourselves, and maybe it’s not true…but what if it is? Then the real stars on the ground are us. Vaguely beautiful, but just as magnificent enough to be something.
The Virgins Diary 