sometimes I like to think that stars are precarious stacks of beer bottles puncturing the dark carpet of night. or perhaps exceptionally long knitting needles. regardless, I always like to see more of them, rather than less. (I’ve seen so many on too few occasions.)

before he moved my family to suburbia when I was four years old, my father was house hunting throughout the bay area. He told my aunt that all he wanted in a home was to be able to see the stars at night.

more than anything else in my life, I want to realize this forgotten dream.

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