He returned to the kibbutz just before his birthday, and 'very glad to be back' was how he answered people's questions.
His days now revolved around working, sleeping and eating. No social life to speak of. Just him and his music. Friday nights saw him alone with his books and music. But he was OK, things were going well enough. He was at a place where, to him, loneliness didn't matter too much. He knew a few people who lived on the kibbutz and would occassionally visit them. He was getting over the pain now of the breakup of the relationship. He never realised it would take so long. It was very hard for him to handle the change from seeing someone every day to hardly seeing them at all. He still loved her, deep down, but kept this to himself. Sometimes he'd silently wish that they'd get back together - it was the only thing in the world that he wanted. Whenever he'd see the first star of the night, the sharp point of light a beacon in the deep blue evening sky, he'd close his eyes and make his wish. Asking for help from whoever was up there, out in the depths of the darkness, watching over him.