“Hasta que no queden más estrellas que contar.”
This is radical. In an age of disposability, promising star-level permanence is an act of rebellion. So here is a new kind of prayer for those brave enough to whisper this into someone’s ear: Hasta Que No Queden Mas Estrellas Que Contar
May you find someone willing to sit beside you on a hillside at 2 a.m., wrapped in a thin blanket, pointing up at a speck of ancient light, and say, “That’s number 4,721. Only a few trillion more to go.” “Hasta que no queden más estrellas que contar
