Often times I find myself wandering in an empty field. I am alone, and I can feel the grass caressing my ankles. It was familiar
the first time I have done this, since that origami swan took you, flew you off in a distance where even eight minutes of light isnβt enough. Familiar
like lying is always the only fun I can ever have. Though the place is dim, the sky is not an empty space. Salt sprinkled,
I see the stars sparkle, the way your eyes do.
I trace your name, connecting each dot of light, and, yes, this has to be the last letter, hoping that youβll see it this timeβ
even when eight minutes of light travel isnβt even