Many years ago, the night did not end and the stars did not live far.
People threw the stars across the world, and once they landed, they were thrown again.
The sky was a loom of lights — arcing, burning, sighing.
The stars began to tire of this constant volley.
They asked to be thrown very, very far. And so they were.
And once they found a place to yawn, they slept. And they dreamed.
And they gave people the means to do both,
whenever they saw the trail of thanks above them.
{flash fiction ~ Tommy Tung}
{photography ~ Derek Bever}
Fiction Mostly 