“Someday, I want to reach the moon and the stars,” she said all of the sudden as we laid our backs on the hill’s grass mat, under the mahogany tree that had a curve on its trunk, as if dancing along with the cold breeze of the starlit sky with a splash of dark-blue veiling the sweet atmosphere.
She held her right hand above the skies and I watched as she pretended to hold the crescent moon, painted with grey and silver.
She was so innocent and her eyes were full of wonder. Her pale skin was illuminating as touched by the moonlight. Upon her deep breaths, I could hear her life-long wish, even though it was an obvious impossibility to grasp something ethereal by hand.
Yet as the stars started to fall from night to night, I could as well witness how strands of her hair do the same thing. The moon grew lighter and lighter as well as her skin, until one day, she was also a celestial being.
If ever I would have a chance to carve a marble, I would form a giant crescent moon right next from this now-dead tree of curved mahogany. along its branches, I would tie stars of different sizes as they glow and swivel through the strings that will keep them from falling. At least by this way, it could be possible to sway a hand upon a thing that you merely could not touch, even though it would be too late for her because by now, she’s already a part of the night sky.