On Fireworks.

I wanted to be a firework. I was convinced that every speck of light that exploded from the center of the firework was a living person in a little light buggy. They would steer themselves through the sky to create the firework’s pattern, and when the light went out they would perish with it. Death was absolutely certain, but I didn’t mind. All I wanted to do was drive a firework light buggy through the night sky—and steer myself in the wrong direction. The rules (as they usually are with me) would be completely disregarded, and I would drive that light right into the sky.

Posted by misshaleymichelle on December 9, 2011

https://whathaleymade.wordpress.com/2011/12/09/on-fireworks/