Sometimes late at night, I miss the world that was. The great city carved out of the earth and the trees above it that I whiled away the centuries dancing through. The constellations were different then. Different figures that told different stories. I miss the way the stars themselves looked. They were so much brighter then, so much more alive.
I miss my people and the songs they sang.
It is a world that is now gone, passed into myth and legend. Even the very shape of the continents is altered.