Art by Paul Rios
There are times, when taken by a certain mood, I wish I could lay with eyes unblinking under the night sky and let the stars etch their progress into my retinas. A sort of long-term exposure or caustic printing. I am not sure how this works or why. I am not sure if there ever was a time or ever was a place. It seems that things are until they are not. Sometimes in explosions. Sometimes receding in a wave. Other times, in simply looking away. I am not sure how this works or why, it just seems to be the way.
There are times, when taken by a certain mood, that the night sky becomes quiet, that I feel much bigger than myself. That the night sky becomes a face and devours me whole and then my bones catch fire and I become a comet. I am not sure how this works or why. Who is it that you need to know? In this place and time? In Love? In just being a person? In simply looking away? In drifting for a while? In being a comet? And this is just what it is.
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