an old writer and his words

As stars go, of courseit is rather nondescript,small, middle agedstuck in a distant cornerof a not all thatimpressive galaxy. Yet each morningit sweeps the skystoring all of its kin,even the biggestand brightest, intoits own celestial closetwhere they willremain locked awayuntil it decidesit needs a restand lets them returnto once againpaint the sky.