(no subject)
The other night I had a dream that the planet was destroyed. We got on a ship
and flew through swirling galaxies to try and find a new home. But every place we landed was gray, stony, dead, cold. There was nothing out there for us but dust and darkness.
So we kept searching, but built up a world on the ship. Mechanical and oily, noisy and crowded, but ours. We built a home within ourselves among the burning cosmos and the floating stone.
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