“The conditioning and the war has gotten worse and worse overtime. They have destroyed everything good, extinguished all hope and robbed everyone of light replacing it with terror, illusions and darkness,” he begins.

“So the stars above are the only light in this world that they can’t turn off, terminate.,” he scoffs as he pokes the fire with a broken branch, creating a crackling sound filling the intended anticipation.

“If they could take them away they would. So instead they build fake lights, buildings and skyscrapers providing electricity for free so that people could not see beyond them,” his eyes turn sullen with a passion she’s known too well, anger.

“They make places like these, inaccessible. Restricted. Secured and haunted so that we cannot see what truly exists and has its own right of place in this world,” he pauses and looks directly into her tired eyes.

She challenges his gaze which causes him to tilt his head back, a hint of satisfaction washing over his face, only for a brief second before he continues, “Light child. A glimmer.”

“A glimmer of what?” She asks, hanging onto every word this odd man had to say.

“A glimmer of hope.”