As I walk along the pavement painted with dew of the rain, I gaze upon the moon. I am not alone, I think. The moon is up there, chasing me wherever I go. The moon may shape shift or change to different shades, but it is always there. Ever so reliantly shining even when the clouds thicken and cover it. I look at the half moon directly and suddenly I feel the breeze. I feel as if I was touched by the glow of the moon, cuddle by the cold wind. I feel as if I’m alright, as if nothing’s wrong, as if I’m made whole by the half moon.