It was two in the morning.

You heard the plane in its movement. You tried holding him, but he was gone.


You gazed at the stars, and the dark spaces of heaven.

You contemplated the gods themselves. Above. The milky way of lights. Packed full. Crowded.

So many secrets.

You contemplated the gods themselves. Above. The distance between each light. Scattered afar. Vastness.

So much loneliness.


"I cry with my smiles," he would have said to you. "I dream in a jungle of pain and agony. I can't breathe. There's nothing to breathe. And I can't live. There's nothing to live."

He wanted to make you happy, and so he gave you his smile. A solar smile of painful brightness.



"I cry with my smiles."