Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight. Oh, how I yearn for a simpler life. Will I see that star tonight? Wishing seems to be all that I have remaining, trying to vanquish depression while preparing to sell my home of twenty-six years.

I am now an old man. My wonderful sister passed in 2015. When we were kids, she was always at my side. My mom passed in 1999. She stood by me no matter what path I took. She was a stenographer on the Nuremberg trials. My dad was in the OSS in Burma. He passed in 1963 – a warrior I never really got to know. And here I remain, still wishing upon that star.

My website covers all aspects of my fifty plus year design challenge. I was ecstatic when I read about Beeple and his monumental success. I was convinced my Never Before Done, applied art, 1/1 cryptograms would be a success among collectors and investors of super rare NFT’s. I envisioned sales generating enough revenue to enable me to move back to the city where I grew up – Charleston, SC. I trusted my work. I bet my life on it.

I was invited to join MakersPlace. They proved to be no help with promotion. Sadly, they went out of business. I moved my work to OpenSea hoping for some promotional help. A representative told me getting a feature was practically impossible. He said the introduction of AI had spawned millions of prompters clogging the marketplaces with cheap AI productions.

I embarked on a personal PR campaign. I tried contacting writers, journalists, bloggers, influencers, and anyone involved with keeping the art community informed. After two years, I never heard from a single contact. As a seventy-six-year-old senior citizen (old school) I never seriously pursued social media. In hindsight, that was a mistake.

I’m now slowly pressing the letters my miniature black keyboard hoping for a miracle. I have to sell my home to pay back a reverse mortgage loan to stop the interest from accruing. When I sell, I’ll have nowhere for me and my cat Zeus to rest our weary heads. Clinical depression weighs heavily on my mind. Trying to go through everything I own to decide what I can save and what I can’t is disheartening. Those things are my memories. That struggle may yet cost me my existence on this planet.

I’m demoralized about the questionable decisions I’ve made due to my single minded, fifty-year pursuit of the Holy Grail, the rarest of the rare NFT, which I finally created. I attempted to introduce my super rare NFT’s to the art world at a time when it appears to need a shot in the arm. Are there discerning collectors still seeking the rarest of the rare?

It’s Thanksgiving Day 2025. It’s sunny with a chill in the air. I wish I was back on my three wheeled tractor with my sister by my side.

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.