“I want to see the stars,” Sisi said to her mother.
She was seven, a young Venezuelan long before the time of Bolivar, and, as children often are, she was unafraid to dream.
“Well, Sisi,” said her mother as she ushered the young lass outside, “The stars are right here for you to see. See?”
And the stars bespectacled the night sky, flickering and shining bright as a young girl’s eye.
“No, mother,” Sisi insisted, “I don’t just want to see the stars,” and she became spectacularly serious, “I want to see them from up there. I want to go to the stars. I want to touch them.” Continue reading