ORIGINS: When we were doing the Swan-tailed Scorpions, we came across the word SONGSTER. We liked it because it conjured up stars in our minds, but we wanted to distance ourselves from the songs, so we looked for a word that started with STER. And what we found was STERCORAL. Which gave us dung beetles and coral reefs for our stars.
A little beetle told me that a long time ago this desert used to be a coral reef. I wondered where all the colors went. The little beetle told me that they became the light of the stars. And I have never looked at the stars the same way again. I used to think that they were dull, insignificant things, and I didn’t shed a single tear when they disappeared from the sky. But now that I know that they have all the colors of a coral reef inside them, I promise that I will treasure the next star that falls at my feet.
In the desert I found a pair of beetles doing a ritual dance. They were trying to bring a coral reef back to life. They were trying to convince the stars to pick up their dust. Because there was too much sand, and two beetles would never be able to unearth the coral reef buried beneath it in their lifetime. I wanted to know what the stars’ answer would be. But a bird came out of nowhere, and ate those two beetles, putting an end to the dance. And when I asked, the bird told me that the sky didn’t need any more stars. That if people wanted something beautiful, they should listen to its songs, because at least they weren’t out of reach, like those cruel stars.
A band of beetles heard that the night was an ocean, and they flew into it, because they wanted to see if they could find a colorful coral reef. But all they found were the same old stars they had grown up seeing from afar. All the stars looked the same, and the beetles couldn’t find their way back home. Lucky for them, a deer agreed to let its antlers grow, so that the beetles could descend, back to that desert, where the most beautiful colors were meant to live on inside their hearts.
I met a beetle in the desert. It had already unearthed a coral reef, but the beetle wasn’t interested in it. The beetle kept digging, it seemed that it was looking for ancient stars. And when I asked, the beetle told me that it didn’t like its fate. That it was looking for a way to change its luck, and rewrite its past.
What more do you want me to say? Birds don’t sing for you. Stars don’t shine for you. If a caged bird gave you the wrong impression, that’s not something you can blame me for. You would have a better chance of caging a star, than of making me do anything for you. My colors may not have faded away, but I assure you that I am old enough to know that no one does anything for anyone else, out of the goodness of their hearts.
Why did you have to be so mean? I never asked you to lie to me. I never asked you to tell me that I was as beautiful as a coral reef. I only wanted you to notice me. To see me, for who I really was. But you told me that I could dress up. That I could become whoever I wanted to be. Why couldn’t you see that I was already someone? That I was already myself? I never wanted to sing someone else’s song. But if that is all I will be allowed to do once I grow up, at least I will make sure never to repeat your words.
I like corals. They have pretty colors, and I have heard that some of them resemble brains. I wonder if that is how the sea manages to remember everything. I used to sing my songs under the stars, but I think that I will sing them close to a coral reef from now on. Maybe if those corals grow along with my songs, maybe if a part of me remains trapped in that reef, I will never forget who I used to be. Maybe if my songs become part of those corals, that will give me a map. So that when I grow up and get lost, I can find my way back to a version of myself that I know I loved.
I have heard that some corals look like fans. And I have decided that I no longer need birds to lull me into sleep. Corals are more colorful, they are older, and that is the only wind I want. I want dreams that will last. Dreams that won’t fade away as soon as my childhood comes to an end. I know that the older I grow, I will sleep less and less. That some day I won’t be a koala anymore. But I refuse to stop singing in my dreams. I refuse to sleep, in a dark, colorless place.