The celestial dome, that towards which we sometimes look, day or night, when we travel by plane or when we look for the air that we lack underwater.
The sky is the horizon of fantasy and is full of dreams, full of desires that lead shining shooting stars and presences moved from this plane.
Thus, it is not surprising that the sky is in ruins, overexposed to so many broken dreams, unanswered wishes and souls thrown into the cosmos for centuries and centuries.
The truth is that nobody listens up there. The bustle is deafening. Maybe we are really abandoned in this world and that a possible God has given up the tremendous task of sheltering so many planets.
We're alone. Abandoned to what we are, living matter subjected to free will. But as Milan Kundera would say, we wrote the sketch of one life for another that will never be granted to us. And in the rehearsal of life you walk the characters of this story. Stories stitched together by drives and emotions, by routines and miseries.
But there is hope in living, there is always the moment, why else? If we want life to mean something, that happiness transcends at the end of our days, we just have to let ourselves go and wait for the magic.
There may still be a paradise, no matter how much the author of this book considers it lost. It is the magic of literature. In the magic mirror of a reader, the characters built to convey certain emotions can end up communicating a very different message.
Happiness, humor even if it is corrosive. Characters who champion hopelessness and loss to end up being blessed by chance, the only one who takes care of this world and any other worlds. If it weren't for chance, the planets would have impacted, and the stars would have gone out by now. A stroke of chance can change everything or, at least, provoke that eternal glow of the fleeting. And the protagonists of these stories know a lot about that ...
You can buy the book The ruined sky, by Ángel Fabregat Morera, here: