We lay in the field. I didn’t care what the crop was, but it rose above our heads. The moon looked down as we looked up. I said I wished people wouldn’t go to space as it ruins the mystery, like a woman applying make-up in public. You, however, like to know things.
The ground began to grow damp and the air was cold. I’m sure alcohol took care of that, and we felt happy, lying together for hours in darkness.
A massive beetle arrived so we left. In six years I would apply my make-up in front of you.