A long time in a galaxy far away, there lived a girl. She had chestnut hair and laughing eyes. She liked to gaze up at the stars, and on sunny days she would sing.

Not so long ago in a galaxy not so far away, there lived a young woman. She had ran away from home, and lived on the verge of nothing. She walked a line between good and wrong. But she still looked at the stars, and she still sang, her voice rising in the air and gathering in one man's heart. She fell in love.

Years ago in a galaxy that is neighboring to us, there lived a woman. She had a house, and she lived with her husband and two kids. Sometimes they would go outside in the nighttime and the woman would show them the constellations. On sunny days, she taught them to sing.

A month ago on the other side of the world, there lived an old woman. She had watched her children grow up and have children of their own. Her husband had died. She was still able to look up at the stars, but she couldn't sing anymore.

Yesterday in a the small town I live in, there was a dead woman in a coffin. It had been a small funeral; only family members and a few friends. She couldn't sing. And her eyes were closed. The night before had been the last time she had seen the old, ancient stars.