I’m usually not emotional collecting wallpapers: this is the exception. It encaptures this family tradition I hope will outlive the borrowed time I have remaining. Out there in nature are forests surrounded by lakes, depicting the horizon disappear when nightfall sets in. There, at that moment, the Earth’s surface and the night sky are almost identical to each other.
My relatives and I once routinely visited these forests, waiting for the stars to appear above us, while watching the same luminance appear right beneath our feet. We would spend our nights counting stars: identifying famous constellations, discovering comets, and listing ones of our own creations, as simple distractions to hide away from our destitution.
After a time, our routine stargazing turned to imagining the forest trees were shadowy human figures that cared to listen to our thoughts of wishing for a fictional existence. I was always the odd person out, with few wishes and few dreams. Still, there’s this peace of listening to people voice their dreams nearby.
I realize personal thoughts concerning wallpapers are out of the ordinary. However, I just wanted to describe to people why this wallpaper brings a terrifying feeling of certain demise, and of evidence I was living.
