Under the gloomy cloak of the quiet night, the stars murmur legends of the past, shining stars, remembered charm, mark paths, elaborate dreams. They are beacons of the spirit in the vast sky, silent observers of a world already in flight.
They sing stories that the wind preserves of loves, struggles and nameless times, each brightness represents an existence, each spark, a breath of a man. I contemplate them and I perceive that there is something waiting for me, beyond this ephemeral land.