Autumn is lying on the ground, staring at the sky, thinking. She does that a lot – think. Sometimes she feels her mind will never shut up, leave her alone; but despite the number of times it annoys her, she knows she doesn’t want it any other way. Right now her thoughts are on the stars. She’s gazing at those beautiful, glittering lights in the night sky, and thinking. She’s letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. An astronomer once told her that your ability to see the stars improves after 3 minutes, then after 30, and your night vision is optimum after 3 hours of exposure. So as she’s staring at these celestial bodies, admiring their beauty, more and more pop out of the velvety blackness that is the sky. The longer you look, Autumn thinks, the more you see. Such is the case with humans as well. Not much is clear when you first meet a person. If you give them time, more of them will become visible – just like the stars in the sky. Autumn wonders how many realise this – this power of time and patience. So many are quick to judge on the first encounter, but fail to realise that there is always more than meets the eye. She stares at the darkness between the twinkling stars. There are more out there, she thinks, more than she can see even after her 3 hours of watching. Most of the time, she ponders, you never really do see everything in a person, even after waiting and watching and learning. You never truly know them, just like no one ever truly knows you. So much is that darkness between the stars, where other celestial bodies exist unseen. So much of a person is kept hidden, but you learn to love them all the same, despite the darkness – just as you learn to love the night sky despite the absence of so many stars you know are out there. And maybe it’s better this way, she thinks, when there is darkness as well as brightness. After all, would you still love the night sky if it was completely lit up by stars, as bright as a summer’s day?