Ellipsis

Sometimes, of an evening, I stand on the terrace and think random thoughts. For some reason, I love the sight of the sky over the rooftops of the city, birds flying in a perfect V, stars glittering a tad uncertainly in a blue-grey sky, almost as if asking, Is it time yet? There'll be a plane flying overhead, multiple lights ablaze. I think of everyone aboard the aircraft, wonder where they are going, wondering where I can go. It's reassuring to know that some element of the universe knows what it is doing, at least. The day knows it has to end, the blue in the sky has to recede over the rooftops, skirting TV antennae and the odd electric pole, clearing the way for the rather decided black-grey-blue that night brings.

I look up at the sky and wonder what it is like to be one vast, limitless expanse. I stop, check myself. I'm starting again. For some reason, I have always loved the abstract more than the physical. The elements, some beliefs, some institutions and ideals and dreams mean a lot more to me than any person or place ever can. The elements, especially. I smile inwardly, allowing myself, without quite knowing it or meaning to, to break into a chuckle, wondering if I am mad. The wondering gives way to a brief moment of defiance: I am, so what of it? before yielding to indifference, while my gaze wanders back to the sky.

The sky. It's the one thing that hasn't changed. The one constant, from my home in the east to all the places I wander to. Wherever I go, I know I will stand under the same sky. I don't know if it is this sameness that I love about it, or the fact that it is way too vast to be contained ever, in any manner, least of all geographically. I know that I don't care - either way, it is my sky.