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Writer's pictureAaliya Shrivastava

Our galaxy



Looking around, one realises, their story is one of many. One amongst the myriad narratives, and one as a culmination of many others. Each of our stories are moulded as the experiences evolve, and grow with the people we meet along the way. Everyone clutching onto theirs like it’s a luxury item on sale. The nuances we don’t even realise leave the deepest impressions, and our stories unwind, like the stars in the night sky.


Everyone has a galaxy in their hearts. A beautiful imagination waiting to take over like the night sky. Hiding in plain sight, until the light fades and the magic starts. The ones we cherish become the moon, a fantasy reminding us to find the light inside. We can find stars in the every day, like the people burning the midnight oil, lighting up their cubicles, shining in their own way.


The star in us lights the way, with a unique light for each one. Someone’s light could be a passion, another’s fear, or just simple rebellion, to heart-wrenching pain. Ultimately, all our lights are unique, making us our own star and our own galaxy, urging us to keep twinkling just like this.


So, maybe it’s not the moon or the stars or the night lights that make the lonely night so bright. Maybe it’s just us. Our individual lights unfold the view as perceived, to the star-studded sky shining just for us. A unique night view for 7 billion stars, each with their own stories and their very own galaxy. So, in the pitch-black night, we seek solace in the stars. The stars which are us, our stories, our light, reminding us that we’re shining, brighter than anyone else, simply because we’re living, we’re smiling, and that’s good enough.


Inspiration: Mikrokosmos



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