I gaze at the ink black night sky and sit down to write. The grass beneath me is slightly damp and smells sweet. I look at the stars while I think about what to write and trace the patterns they make with the point of my index finger. They are only pinpoints of light from where I am sitting and I have a sudden urge to join them. I want to hang suspended above the heads of so many. I want to be part of the tapestry of woven starlight which finds its way into our dreams without even trying. And for a minute I am. I can feel an immense freedom, a feeling of lightness, of eternal protection from the space surrounding me. I am unable to be hurt, to be touched, yet a vague sense of loneliness suddenly envelops me and at that instant I fall. When I am myself again, and I can feel the prickly blades of grass beneath me, I realize that I can climb that immeasurable height whenever I want. And I don't feel lonely but strangely impenetrable like the pinpoint of a shining star. n