As I surround the planet 10,000 kilometres an hour, my waving becomes indistinguishable from the twinkle of a star.
There’s no need to scream in space, the vacuum will eat it away. The beeps and boops are my daily symphony, reminding me of simple times where science fiction was meant for dreamers – not for the masochistic fandom of dystopias.
Where did all the dreamers go? Perhaps it is hard to look to the sky when your feet are burning. Easy for me to say while I take a space shower in zero gravity.
Is someone who cannot touch earth homesick? Planet-Sick? I for one was able to live in a sort of vacuum – only for it to be pierced by the necessity of procuring means of financing life. Was it really that bad? Will it be?
As with many things in life, age and experience gives you distance. In the moments of silence, imagine yourself sitting in the spaceship. Beeps and boops. Space-toilets and astronaut food. Are you planet-sick? Do you want to return home? Do you long for another human word?
No need to tell me. Let’s gaze.