It is a hoax. That’s what the visitors claim.
And yet, here it glows peacefully, throwing cobalt shadows over asphalt streets. Thirty whatever-they-may-be have converged for its sake, for its glory, for its wonder, and nobody knows when, but presumably at any moment, one will have to go out and create one’s own blue sun, for one’s own blue sky, and one’s blue sky will not, cannot, will not, cannot, will NOT, cannot possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly, possibly.