One Perfect Moment Flying the heavens while the sun still plays, nothing existing is a greater joy and there is only one thing as splendid. Flying while the sun rests and the moon dazzles her magic. Looking down among the twinkling lights and the suspicious shadows.
Lights start to dance into familiar shapes.
Areas lit alive and happy others desolate, damp, dark and cold. But yet it is all so beautified, flawless, and you want it to end no sooner than your life. Everyone needs one perfect moment in their lives. And supposing it's perfect because you're too far away to see the homeless people living in the streets, to hear the hungry babies crying, to smell the corruption and the taste of death. After all that, I gather that maybe to accuse something of being perfect you have to be blind.