Remember when we both saw the solar eclipse? That rarely happens. We barely knew each other. Everyone talks about watching the same moon while being far away; but an eclipse? One in a hundred. I could say one in a million, but nah, eclipses are not that rare, and we are not that special.
We do not know that much about each other yet. However, here I am, writing about an eclipse, about how the sun and moon met, during the day, when everything was bright, that it could blind thousands of people if they watched for too long, how it could be a metaphor of how we met, that if people looked, it would hurt their eyes, that when they looked closely, it is actually heartwarming.
How the universe conspired for them to meet. Cliché, I know. Is it bad to dream?
How it was cloudy during that day, that maybe the sky did not want us to see them together, did not want us to see the moon take most of the sun's light away, did not want us to see the beauty of it all.
That after it happened, that if you looked to the other side of the sky, you would see that it was all blue. That on one side where the celestial affair unfolded, was all grey.
Blueberry, I want to know you more. I have it bad. I do not like writing this, but all of this, demands to be written out. It is an itch in my mind. It is out here now. It wants to take a visual form, wants to be seen by everyone. I thought the artist in me died. It looks like it faked its death and now it wants to have some fun. It is toying with me and I do not like it one bit. It is your fault.
I will just have to see you in the next eclipse, then, when the sun and moon would meet again.
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