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G. P. Moci

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“Did you know some of the stars have names? He looked at me and smiled with that warm look he gets now and then. Yes, he said, but I don’t know their names, do you? No, I said, but lets name them ourselves. We’ll name them after everyone we love that is already in heaven, and every night when we see their star, we’ll have a good memory of them instead of a sad one. See how beautiful it is up there?”

“Above his head at street level, he saw an angled aileron of a scarlet Porsche, its jaunty fin more or less at the upper edge of his window frame. A pair of very soft, clean glistening black shoes appeared, followed by impeccably creased matt charcoal pinstriped light woollen legs, followed by the beautifully cut lower hem of a jacket, its black vent revealing a scarlet silk lining, its open front revealing a flat muscular stomach under a finely-striped red and white shirt. Val’s legs followed, in powder-blue stockings and saxe-blue shoes, under the limp hem of a crêpey mustard-coloured dress, printed with blue moony flowers. The four feet advanced and retreated, retreated and advanced, the male feet insisting towards the basement stairs, the female feet resisting, parrying. Roland opened the door and went into the area, fired mostly by what always got him, pure curiosity as to what the top half looked like.”

“I love watching stars, counting them on my little finite fingers, those fragments of fire and crumbling dreams. I love to imagine their stories, their pain, their laughter, their love, and then when I feel how they paint dreams even while falling apart, I realise how Love binds this Universe, the sky of these infinite shining souls. I love breaking free into the nothingness of their eyes, as I smile at their gaze when they sing me a lullaby made of a cold glimmer, the cascading fire of Love of His Eternal Smile. I love watching stars kissing away the darkness like a distant breeze, beckoning a song of a wild night clutched in a cold sky, where the music dances in a wedding feast. I love breathing in His forever love through the heart of my stardust, as the infinite soul of my finite soul, caress Him in the contour of that eternal canopy of stars, and how I love watching stars!”

“In this magical life we live it’s as though everyone we’ve ever met is like a star in the galaxy of our experience and beingness. Some are near and shine bright and others are distant and faint. Some present, some past but all significant. All part of the story of our existence - all with their own individual significance. Some known, some mysterious, some unknowable.”

“On the landing yesterday’s poster hooked my attention ‘Would they be dead if they’d stayed in bed?’ I had an impulse to rip it down, but that probably constituted conduct unbecoming to a nurse, as well as treason. ‘Yes, they’d be bloody dead,’ I ranted silently. ‘Dead in their beds or at the kitchen table eating their onion a day. Dead on the tram, falling down in the street, whenever the bone-man happened to catch up with them. Blame the germs, the unburied corpses, the dust of war, the circulation of wind and weather, but Lord God Almighty, blame the stars, just don’t blame the dead, because none of them wished this on themselves.”