“There’s a diamond in the stars.”
“Is there, now?”
“Yes. There’s a diamond in the stars. And we need to name it.”
Odd conversations are what make Friday nights Friday nights. A combination of accumulated exhaustion and unvoiced opinions and witticisms bubble to the surface of our brains. The strangest things come out of our mouths between 11 and 12 at night.
Sometimes it’s worth your while to talk about the stars. They are wonderfully beautiful and mysterious things, and two people who look at them will see two separate universes, each involving the other. Some see eyes looking down. Others see diamonds. Others see animals gallivanting across the dark blue heavens. Some see all three. Some see the person with whom they are stargazing gazing right back at them.
Friday nights and stars. The stuff dreams are made of, so it would seem. Or so at least so it seems after a week of holding it in, buckling down, staying alert. On Friday nights, at last, we are finally given license to let go and dream.