the ever-electric blue pull of the earth.

they’d all at some point walked in. And

A beauty he feels while he vacuums the control panels and air vents, as they eat their lunch separately and then dinner together, as they pile their waste into a cargo module to be launched towards earth where it’ll burn up in the atmosphere and be gone, as the spectrometer surveys the planet, as the day becomes night which quickly becomes day, as

the booming silence of everything else,

the non-Russian segment

Our lives here are inexpressibly trivial and momentous at once, it seems he’s about to wake up and say. Both repetitive and unprecedented.

The thoughts run into a wall and expire. Then are reborn into a sudden apprehension, for the hundredth time today, of those four souls, his colleagues and friends, on their way to the moon. Take heart, his wife once said, if you perish up there the millions of bits of you will be orbiting the earth; that’s a good thought isn’t it? And smiled conspi

sunrise blasts open the dark and daytime floods in, the entire northern hemisphere once again luminous and humanless.

human being was not made to stand still.