I am on the North Fork of Long Island, where there is not much ambient light. The stars are bright and intense.

 

I walk the dog, the 80-poound beautiful American Muttheimer. We stop on the road. I lean back and look at the stars.

 

The sky is filled with them. They are bright. They twinkle. I think, some of them may have died thousands of years ago.

 

Then, I think, that man, that ignorant man who is to be called president, means nothing when you look at the stars. He will be gone before they twinkle again. His meanness, his ignorance, his cruelty will come and go.

 

We will survive. We will resist. We will persist. He will go away sooner than those dead stars.

 

They are beautiful. He is not.