Excerpt 1
GROUND CONTROL: Everything make sense?
ASTRONAUT: Affirmative.
GROUND CONTROL: Perfect! To begin with -
GROUND CONTROL: Oh, hey! Look out your window, you should be able to see the earth from up there!
ASTRONAUT: Indeed I can, Ground Control.
GROUND CONTROL: How’s she look from up there, Captain?
ASTRONAUT: Beautiful. The earth appears so small from this vantage.
GROUND CONTROL: Haha, that never ceases to amaze me. You must feel like a god.
ASTRONAUT: Far from it.
GROUND CONTROL: Oh, you feel small too, then?
ASTRONAUT: Inquiry into the relevance between this and the mission?
GROUND CONTROL: Sorry, of course. Where was I….
GROUND CONTROL: To begin with, could you do me a favour and check your trajectory for me?
ASTRONAUT: Of course, checking now.
Excerpt 2
I find a poetry in how the artistically impaired draw flying birds.
Two sloped lines, just trying to express one driving, defining feature, flight
Abstracted down to the mathematical, linear, to the symbolic
I don’t think you could draw an angel like this
A great many people, great many talented people, tried to write and paint and find a symbol
For the creatures but they resist. For they are already an abstraction refraction of His light.
In truth, this body scares me
I worry that when it comes down to it the dymb or the dull could capture me the same way
The minimum amount of words for the maximum amount of information
He was an astronaut, intelligent, terse
Why do we associate birds with freedom when we tie them down with two simple lines
I must go where there is nothing to comprehend, surely then I will be met with the incomprehensible
Theres no sense in following logic while also following angels, the only value i find any weight in is distance
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