The starry night officiates over darkened chaos earth and its people. Darkened earth does not often notice, and in the cities by slaughtered walls surly young things engage in brutality.
Is it good? The constellation Musca adjoins the constellations Telescopium and Pavo. Even the skies have been colonized here. It depends what kind of man you're talking about, how he'll look at the sky, of course. Some mainly narrow their eyes, others mainly scrunch their foreheads, yet others stand akimbo, and some put one leg forward, one hand on hip, and gaze unmoving at one or two stars. These last are the most interesting and will inherit the earth. They are conquistadors, direct yet complicated men who want only what will add to the world. They are ruthless and cynical, awful dinner companions, and one cheers to know that they will forever have to till their gains.
There are people to whom the stars speak with deep human voices; these stand by walls and brutalize others, complicating life. To some the stars sing like glass. These build parks and centers for betterment of others like themselves, and relax on the grass, and drink whiskey at night in high-ceilinged rooms with art nouveau wallpaper and posters of "The Kiss" and "The Scream."
We don't really care about the people to whom the stars represent molecules or the ones for whom they are standards by which to measure progress or sanity; these look at the stars lying down. We care about the conquistadors, who fight the stars, and the angry young men who hear the stars' baritone