Tempelhofer feld

I pretend I am a plane and take off towards you, sun. Keep shining down at this piece of history and watching my legs turn. They pace your descent into the horizon until the sky falls a familiar shade of navy. Awaiting your arrival again, we shut our eyelids and pray. For "that the sun will not rise tomorrow is no less intelligible a proposition and implies no more contradiction than the affirmation that it will rise" - Hume.