There’ll be days when it feels life has orphaned us and we’ve been abandoned beyond time’s reach. When a white flag of surrender threatens to be our flesh, and we’re left to die the slow suicide of loneliness. I can’t explain how satellites send our messages to one another, or how to calculate the light years between stars. I do know that there’ll be days when we must work like hell to save dying optimism from the grave it has dug for itself. When we must battle with every breath to find a way back into the blood and bones of meaning. Through it all, we must hold our heads high, looking towards the future. Behind eyes like ours there are all sorts of dreams.