I remember a time when the air around us was as light as the whispers of a couple million fireflies.

I remember when we sat by the sea, on a cool pavement made of fantasies crushed by the depth of what lay before it. I remember when the six of us knew that nothing else mattered more than the plain blinding brightness of the night or the liberty of being where we were. The sky was starless, with shrouds of haunting darkness splattered all over it. An avalanche of black was hurled at us, bit by bit, edging slowly into our veins, making space and replacing where used to once reside fear, even apprehension. Our laughter was as free as the Milky Way suspended in eternity and we met a God draped in night-time insanity. We felt beautiful as we chuckled out a few words of profound thoughts and incoherent decisions. About the sea, which is clearly just reserved for Nothing and about how love means laying on a street, in the middle of the night, under a world with not a single speck of light to lead the way. Knowing that somewhere in a certain book, on a certain page, this day was written; centuries of worlds ago.


We took flight and made our way across the world and the sun and back, on foot. We smiled when we sipped elixer and pirouetted when a cupcake fell into our hair. We made fun of clichés and then watched them bubble into life; gobsmacked. We felt love, we felt life and we felt infinite. We felt what was and oh god, was it beautiful.

I remember those hours, when the words we said and the sounds we made caused thunder to crash onto the sky and down on us, pouring a stream of sunbeam into the dead of the night. I remember a day when the night etched onto the face of dawn and a dawn that springed from the breathing of six people who will remember those moments for the rest of their lives.