I met you yesterday. You promised me heaven. I was fascinated by your hands. I laughed, saying you were a sculptor. "Don’t you believe me?" you asked. I wanted proof. "Will a day be enough?" "One as long as a lifetime?" You touched me, and it felt pleasant. You promised me heaven. From clay, stone, maybe metal. I still long for it. I gaze at the sky. It is so... mysterious. You promised me heaven. I still don’t have it. I am angry, and today I will ask. You look at me, surprised. You point to our children. "I missed you," you take me in your arms. "Missed me?" "Without a star, the sky isn’t so... beautiful."
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