I think the stars sometimes mirror our stories, like a quiet echo of the colors we paint on earth, but they also have their own hidden brush strokes—little flickers and constellations that only they can see. So maybe it’s a mix of shared dreams and secret sketches written in light.

Sometimes it feels like we’re just tracing the outline, but then a flare in the sky reminds us that the stars have their own colors and rhythms—an unspoken language of light that’s still a mystery to us. So we follow the outline, and the stars paint their own secret hues in the gaps.