typeracer

The stars rattled him to the core. All these lights have traveled for tens of millions of years to reach him at this moment. How somewhere far away, our own sun looks just like one of these. How many of the stars no longer even exist, but whose ancient light is just reaching him now? An impression from a ghost, an amazing infinite time machine every night above his head that he's ignored for most of his life. He wants to stop people in the street and say: "Isn't this amazing? Isn't everything amazing?"