Haruki Murakami. My favorite sputnik (№ 5048)

And then I realized. All the way we seemed to be wonderful companions, although he was only alone metal bars, each circled in its own orbit. From afar they look like beautiful shooting stars. And in fact, there we are, locked up alone, like criminals, inside these glands, and fly to nowhere. If by chance the orbits of the two satellites are the same, then we meet. And when they come in contact, even able to recognize in each other a kindred spirit. But only for a moment. To the next moment once again be in absolute solitude. Until you burn somewhere down and will not turn at all nothing.