Shooting stars are brilliantly beautiful, and the aphorism is more often a praise than the fatality it represents… It’s the death of a celestial body in the truest of sense–at its end it spontaneously decomposes into things that don’t even represent its brilliant existence before its fall.
I wish I have the time to develop this motif in more detail. But, alas, too many earthly tasks take their toll on my time…
