Lost souls in a lonely world, staring out a window at the rain that never stops coming down. “Eyes are the windows to the soul,” they say. Shutters and curtains drawn, you can’t even see the faces through the glass.
Can you see me now? A whisper.
Do the stars know best what it is like to be alone, millions of miles away from each other? The insufficiency of planets and moons, the routine of rotations. Perhaps they feel it most of all…
But the stars sing, even though they have no voice.
Or perhaps we are little stars, pinpoints of light in the dark expanse of sky, drawn to each other by the weight of gravity, guiding each other through and through…
Because even a small candle wards away that much darkness.
And small stars together form an ever-turning galaxy, spinning away the night.
Inspiration: moonage daydream