Her neck cranes skywards, they are there, beyond the haze and mist of a day long since past. They are there and she will bring them forth. So many times, so often she has searched the endless abyss of the sky for answers. Safe haven, safe haven, what to do next, the holes in the ceiling will show me the way. She feels peaceful within the idea that she is the most miniscule object in endless sapce. Endlessness soothes her, comforts her in the idea that she is, nothing yet to some, she is something of value. For what is life. We are nothing. We could never exist and, the universe would remain stagnant, and just as incomprehensible. But, in reality, that is impossible. Because each curious life shapes the lives of every other. The chain reaction that is life, is never ending. It is the only was to grow. Develop. Improve. So. She lays beneath the damp cloud cover, and dismal fog, searching centuries back in time, miles above the tallest buildings, to show her the holes in the ceiling. The unfathomable idea, of living in endless space, that gives us our purpose.