On how I lost my sequin but didn't lose my buttons.

We were sitting there drinking and relying on the stars to give us an idea of who we were, mostly as a joke but maybe hoping that the ridiculous sketch would get us near the truth, if only for the lack of better ways to grasp some meaning or to make up a decent story out of all those pieces that for some reason refused to fall into place. And we were joking about how good things where, for some if not for all, in spite of all the bumps. Mostly I was thinking that this is my third drink and maybe I should not get another one and maybe I should stop thinking as well and just try and stay still for a bit because I frequently get lost, even in my own thoughts.
But in the meantime we were walking again, out in the cold, and laughing... talking about everything at the same time and for a minute there it might seem we are actually getting somewhere.
So these are the faces I see and those are the voices I remember whenever I start to grow tired of meandering, of wondering, of contemplating whatever it is that is inside this little room. Those are the eyes who have peered into it through that tiny little window, just because there happened to be a light on.