did i ever tell you that the clock runs backwards whenever you face south? from west to east, it turns. and you're always a second away from facing the right direction.
"to find the southern cross, first look for the two very bright stars nearby, alpha and beta centauri" (national geographic). but amidst the eighty seven other constellations, i still wonder when will space ever gratify our time.
the number of days you've been here would most likely be the number of sunsets you've encountered. not necessarily seen by the way, because what's over the rooftops and the hazy breeze covers a magnitude of unknown space, a scenery way beyond the depths of the undiscovered ocean life. and as humane as it is, we're too fond of facing our watches in turn of the day that just passed by.
yet, did you ever find answers as to what lies beyond that void? of the pitter pattering rain that echoes your mechanical keyboard and the mouse clicks, the galaxies inside this vast plane. no, not of lifeforms or alienation, or its unexplained scientific phenomenon, but of this infinite collection of stories, unfolded black matter and white stars, and all these invisible colors that remain too close or too far away from each other.
“the milky way has the right name for the wrong reasons,” jeffrey newman once said. "it really is milky white—or, more precisely, it’s the color of fine-grain, new spring snow in the early morning or late evening, about an hour away from dawn or sunset.” but they appear purplish, bluish, yellowish, pinkish in pictures, and too low in light to look as it is for the naked eye. perhaps that is why we stare at our shoes way longer, this visible soil and dirt that magnify our lives.
maybe gazing at this ground for more than half a minute straight doesn't ring a bell to people who spend most of their time looking up. "i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night" (sarah williams). yet for those who keep their secrets foretold, they don't realize the depth of six feet before their toes grow old. . but despite nicholas sparks' "you are in two places at once," i don't think people are only a collection of who they are now and who they once were.
even the moon failed to speak for several days, and still those number of drafts cannot recognize the right words to say. not much for people who knew not that the sky stays silent most of the time but the thoughts linger anyway, above the clouds that hide the pastel palettes of pablo picasso or vincent van gogh's. yet just as how some antagonists vindicate themselves with all the traumas they've been through, will always hand you closer to the shooting star you once wished will fall right.