I remember the way he looked with his chin tilted towards the sky, and how the stars reflected into his hues, illuminating his features. We sat there for a while, talking about everything that came to our minds, until eventually, we found peace in silence. It was a few minutes before anything was said. “We’re all the same, you know,” he murmured, still fixated on the night before him. “I mean, more than the whole ‘we all bleed red’ cliché.” He meant it. You could see it in the way he held himself - relaxed, but excited, as if this idea had been building up inside of him. “You see that up there?” He pulled me closer, his finger outstretched to the night. “Those stars are inside of you. They’re inside of me, they’re inside of everyone. Those stars are what connect us: humanity and earth. We’re tied to the earth, and it’s been taking care of us, I can feel that, but have we been taking care of it? Does it feel everything we do?” The boy paused. “When I look up at those stars, I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like - like maybe I’m not so different, and stuff.” He turned to look at me, and gave me the sincerest, crooked little smile. “We’re in this universe, and the universe is in us. Because past skin color and bone structure, we are all made up of the same things: hydrogen, carbon, and oxygen. And it’s all thanks to those stars.”
excerpt of a book I’ll never write / the reason my love for the earth is deeper than my need for gasoline.