Cosmicomics - A Curious Blend of Astronomy and Romanticism

At the heart of our galaxy there is a raging fire. Me and my brother started it by accident when we were kids, playing with bits and pieces of neutron we found lying around.

Stars often make a pilgrimage to Heaven. Until you've been you can never quite believe the stories of light and peace and colour and beauty. And no one is quite sure how the stories start because no star that has made the pilgrimage has ever come back.

We grew up together and were inseparable as only children can be. Every day during the summer we'd run outside and play in the evening sunshine with not a care in the world. She was my whole life. The fondest memory I have of her was when we went mushroom picking, spending hours foraging for mushrooms amongst the stars and comets.

In the beginning of me I was just gas. Gradually the gravity pulled the gas into dust and over millennia I formed stars. After that followed planets and moons and meteorites and comets and black holes. In the early days of life you could feel the evolution happening. Kind of like an itch I couldn't quite scratch.

The first few moments of the universe were like soup. Far too much energy and not enough protons gave it a bit of a peppery taste but I still loved it. The memory of your mum's cooking when you're growing up gives you such strong memories.

The days before you die are worth looking forward to. Stars have known this for ever, but it took the rest of us a little longer to grasp the idea.

The discovery that the space-time continuum was blue upset a few people. Especially the quarks, they were an unruly bunch and had always assumed they were green.

Despite not having a body, or even any molecules to speak of, when she died there was an emptiness in me. Occasionally I would imagine her ghost drifting across the universe beyond time and form but somehow this always turned out to be just a trick of the light.

It was a dark and stormy night the evening before the universe was created. I'd stayed up late to tell our son a story; he missed you terribly. ..."It was a dark and stormy night..."

We twirled together for billions of years, spinning in time to the music.