We lie on the grass, a light jacket draped over our shoulders. On this very hot day a cooling sensation starts to emanate from the ground. We play with the blades of grass between our feet.

The sun has gone since a little while, some sparkling particules start to appear. Stars ? Planets ? I don’t know what to call them but their presence is reassuring.

You explain to me that they were always present. Even during the day. We just can’t see them, crushed by the sunlight. You tell me about their rotations, the stories and connections made by humans way before us. All of this dates back from way before our time. Somehow we feel a kinship with those ancient observers, sensing the we, too, can continue inventing new stories.

This big starry sky is intimidating. We talk to the lights. Each of them knows our sorrows, our aspirations. They know the names of our loved ones. Little by little we start weaving our constellations, linking the stars with the meaning of our lives. We realize we can be whatever we want. I just want to be them, those shining so bright.