Gabriel looks up at the sky, the sun high at midday, and he mutters quietly, ‘Do you think the sun gets lonely up there?’, but no-one hears, he’s all alone.

He’s sat in the shade of a large oak, in a large empty field, in what seems like an empty world, and he’s sympathising with the sun.

He’s bruised, both literally and metaphorically, he’s too young to understand, and he’s sympathising with the sun.

The sun is a thousands of millenia older than him, the sun is an eternal flame, and his short spanned, and the sympathise together.