It was nine hundred and sixty eight Tuesdays before last Tuesday.
The coldest Tuesday of my life, we were on the highest hill anyone could ever imagine. We called it Noom hill.
It was here she whispered a secret in my ear -
If you stop dreaming the stars will stop shining.
We are made of stars. We make them shine.
I’ve yet to understand what she meant, This was the secret that puzzled me the most. I never stopped dreaming from that day.
I will never forget that cold Tuesday.