Skyline

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“If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I’ll bet they’d live a lot differently.” Calvin & Hobbes

 

Take a moment to appreciate the vastness of our world. Then realize that your writing can be as vast and boundless as our own reality. In fact, it can be so much more.

 

10 – 30 minutes.

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One thought on “Skyline

  1. I trace the constellations as I gaze into the night sky and then watch as my finger guides me to create new images and new stories about the each star cluster. I find that only on three days of each month I tend to study the sky. On the nights of the waxing, waning and full moon the moon shines as if the sun has refused to set leaving light so bright as if it was to help guide us through the darkness. Those nights I am filled with warmth and imaginative tales that trick my mind as fact.

    Growing up in the times of prohibition has not been easy. I watch as my husband lives a life as a rum-runner. Every day he kisses my forehead goodbye and takes the risks of hiding flasks within his trousers or boots to sell to wealthy men who simply cannot be bothered to pay the tax on alcohol. You would think that it would cost them less to buy it with the tax than to risk the future of my husband. But he always tells me, this is how we will feed our children, and the tax is more than a tax, that the tax is just a polite way of saying outlawed. Ah, as my finger outlines the shape of bottles and wine glasses and the wind whispers this is the “Real Mc Coy.”

    Snow thickens on the ground and the inside of the home becomes harder and harder to keep warm and I sit and wonder what temperature lies behind the trick door. Behind this door lies a family. A family that my husband brought into this house hides from the cruelty and punishment of genocide that marches down the streets. Why does he seem to always get himself into these situations? But then he reminds me about our children and if this was reversed, if we were not true Germans, wouldn’t we want the aide? Ah, as my finger outlines the shapes of six point stars and the wind rustles the trees with “Heil Hitler.”

    He always walked out of the house wearing tie dye shirts and claiming that he needed to attend all the sit ins that he could drive our old wagon to within a few hours. We lived in Cambridge at the time and a Harvard professor was making the news with his talks and beliefs about a new drug that could expand and benefit the mind. LSD let people look at things with a different angle than their own imagination could ever do, and he would be damned to miss out on an opportunity that could help provide the family with a better way of living or expansion of the mind. He attended all the meetings, because what else was there to do but protest or supply. Ah, as my fingers outlines the shape of eye droppers and loose waves through the sky hearing irregular notes and bangs from outside life.

    I never know which trip to the stars was real. What time I should belong to? Which life was actually mine? But each time I look into the stars that imagined life becomes so real that I cannot decide for myself which one I am suppose to live in. Maybe I live in all of them and maybe each time I look as the years progress I will land in the time that I truly belong in. If only the stars could talk and share all the things that they have witnessed on this small planet, I am sure they would have a lot to say.

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