#starlitten

[daily-twice-content]

20230902 TWICE’s 5th World Tour Ready To Be @ Indoor Stadium in Singapore

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[mayvora]

imagine this. all 4 seasons of star wars rebels were just a dream ezra had . and he wakes up alone in his tower. with pieces of this dream, shatters of the memory. he clings to them, tries to catch them, tries to remember. but the only thing left is a soft echo of his voice saying those sacred words.

"I could not wish for a better family. I can't wait to come home. "

A home that he no longer can remember.

And maybe part of him still tries to catch that dream, still tries to find those people he had loved and lost forever. People he never actually had. Maybe his eyes fly from person to person, from face to face; he tries to find them. He hopes he'll see them. But he doesn't even know what to search for. He looks at them, listens to them, digging his memory for the smallest bits of their words, of their voices. For any information, anything. What was their favourite colors? What did they like? Who were they, what were they? What did they fight for? Who did they love?

What was their names?..

What is the meaning of the words he still hears in his mind from time to time? Those broken bits of what they said once? Why did they call his name with worry? What were they trying to teach him? What did he learn, exactly? His heart pains weirdly at the sight of someone lost, of someone broken; he sees people who's lives were shattered by the empire and feels the urge to do something, to fight; are those his parents calling out to him? Or do those calls belong to people he will never know? To people who are his life and who are nothing but the shattered memory?

What are those places he sees, familiar yet never seen? What is this call from universe, those words not spoken by a human tongue but rather a song of something old and powerful and familiar and right and wrong? Like a whale song? A murmur of the sea of stars?

Why heart of his will sing song back even if he does not know the words?

Why world calls, why soul answers?

Why world sounds like tired proud man, whose tone somehow reminds him of his father's yet sounding nothing like his voice? Why does the sound of the ship feel like a lullaby? Why colors on the walls and firemade bird are such a pleasure for his starlitten eyes?

What was your name again?

Why is his room so lonely if he hasnt lived with anyone for very, very long? Why would he look up again and again expecting there to be drawing on the roof and walls? A smell of paint and waffles haunts him with every step he makes, but there's no source; he searches for the droid he never ever owned; he feels a touch and claims it mothers yet they feel nothing alike; he is haunted again and again by aquamarine soft eyes.

And why is he so afraid of fire?

And why is time for him never right and never wrong?

And why he sees wolves in the fields and a sky-loved bird?

And why won't he remember who he is? Looking at the mirror, searching for himself and not finding a glimpse of recognition; not knowing the person that looks at him back with a lost tired gaze?

Who are you, Ezra Bridger?

Who are you supposed to be?

[sanalq]

© Starlitten Night

[twidlack]

Starlitten Night

[fyeahforsana]

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[dailysana]

♡ Starlitten Night | do not edit.

[onemoretimefavs]

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[forjihyo]

♡ starlitten night | do not edit.

[twicepictures]

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[emily-starr]

This was the quiet corner of the dormer-window, where shadows always moved about, softly and swingingly, and beautiful mosaics patterned the bare floor. From it one could see over the tree-tops.

She poured out her tale of the day–of her rapture and her pain–writing heedlessly and intently until the sunset faded into dim, starlitten twilight. The chickens went unfed–Cousin Jimmy had to go himself for the cows–Saucy Sal got no new milk–Aunt Laura had to wash the dishes–what mattered it? Emily, in the delightful throes of literary composition, was lost to all worldly things.

When she had covered the backs of four letter-bills she could see to write no more. But she had emptied out her soul and it was once more free from evil passions.

-L.M Montgomery, Emily of New Moon

[garden-of-the-soul]

Then she poured out her tale of the day–of her rapture and her pain–writing heedlessly and intently until the sunset faded into dim, starlitten twilight. The chickens went unfed–Cousin Jimmy had to go himself for the cows–Saucy Sal got no new milk–Aunt Laura had to wash the dishes–what mattered it? Emily, in the delightful throes of literary composition, was lost to all worldly things.

When she had covered the backs of four letter-bills she could see to write no more. But she had emptied out her soul and it was once more free from evil passions.

-L.M Montgomery, Emily of New Moon

[daily-twice-content]

20231014 Lotte Duty Free All Night Party @ Lotte World

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[lazarus-cell]

@itsacuriousthing @starlitten cabbage guy from a:tla: MY CABBAGES

[sanalq]

© Starlitten Night

[twidlack]

Starlitten Night

[fyeahforsana]

© starlitten night | ❀ Do not edit.