Not too far away, I can see the cars running fast on the highways. I can see them and it looks like they are furiously going towards the very edge of the world. I can see the people driving, thinking, breathing deeply, some of them coughing, searching their nose or scratching their crotch. I can see them all. From where I sit I can see the whole world, the one that lives minute after minute, carelessly minding its own business and the one that dies, slowly, unable to completely enjoy anything, for there is only little time left. A plane passes near and draws a weird-looking hole in a cloud through which I think I can see a star. It’s probably another plane but I want to believe it is a star. I remember watching them when I was a kid. I thought about how strangely complicated and yet terribly easy everything was. I was seven, eight, nine, ten years old and I knew that everything would turn out the right way; everything would be okay. It was the best of times, if only someone had told me.
We don’t see stars that often now, or maybe the don’t shine as brightly as they used to. What a strange thing to think, isn’t it?
J.E.R.K 