the milky black sky, littered with luminescent stars, was as constant as ever. returned every night, left every day break. slowly fading into yellows, blues, pinks, oranges, but always coming back. despite the city lights, the highway street lamps, the blinking telephone towers - that dark blanket covered the land, from desert to sea, from sea to forests, from forests to tundra.
it was comforting, quieting, calming. it took my broken self and gently mended it, like a mother tending to her young and restless child. a cup of honey lemon tea, a woolen blanket, a flame, an old favorite book. a city apartment stuffed between buildings and loud noises wasn't so bad at night, when tired feet are lifted and sleepy heads are laid down.
