do the statues stare back at us?

I like to think of the pen as an extension of oneself.

As my pen meets the blankness of that infinite white, my soul is able to reach out and find form through the shape of endless words. If words are like shooting stars being cast into the sky, then my only hope is that someone might see those stars one day— in an unknown time, in an unknown place. They will know that someone has walked where they have walked and feel a semblance of peace in knowing.