It’s strange looking up at the night sky. The one place you would think would be the same across the world, the one glimpse back home. The movies and novels play it out as if the night sky is the one great unifier of all mankind, but when I peer into that great void I look into a vary alien sky. Nothing is the same here. I look for a single, solitary group of stars that make up a faint reminder of home and I find none. All of the stars, instead of creating a grand tapestry of Greek myth, appear to be nothing but a random collage of dots, as if Jackson Pollock was in charge of creating the night sky. Not even the sun is the same. Sure its still bright and yellow, but is hues and aurora during the hours of its birth and death are none the same. Its vibrant hues and flare flicker with a beauty I have never before seen nor can I give the proper words to describe. No, when I look up at the sky for some sort of consolment I am only reminded that I sit upon foreign shores, staring at foreign skys, and I and quite content with that.
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