"Where do stars go in daylight?"
"They are in space."
"Where is space?"
"Space is all around us."
"Are we almost there yet?"
"We've only just set off."
"How will we know when we get there?"
"..."
"Are you there?"
"..."
"Why can't I touch you?"
"...."
"I don't believe in space."
"So where do stars go in daylight?"
"We are all stars.... "
Constellations
That is not half as daft as it sounds on first sight.
We navigate by stars.
We fix our bearings by their positions.
They enter our sphere of wonder.
There are those of you who are painted on my planetarium ceiling.
You blink in the dark.
Your movements shoot across my night sky.
You are here between these lines influencing their trajectory.
Some of you, between the lines, I suspect, lie somewhere beyond Pluto.
I shall organise a manned mission.
I am gazing up through the aperture of the dome.
It is no longer simply sky.
Light beams intention, place, meaning.
Rainbows
I saw a rainbow yesterday.
Rainbows belong to me.
Rainbows colour my thoughts.
They are a prism, a prism for life.
"Where do stars go in daylight?"
Be foreword.
@sensor63 @Bali_Maha @cogdog @catherinecronin @rjhogue @davecormier @Autumm I say and say again I don't believe in space
— Amy Burvall (@amyburvall) September 15, 2015
— Amy Burvall (@amyburvall) September 15, 2015
You are magic.
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