2074, 12 May. Passive Sacrifice.
What do you see in the skies?
Since childhood, it's a question he's asked himself and one others have asked him. His focus is always on the skies, and his gut and his courage and his thoughts are there too. Most of all it's his heart that's in the skies. It's been years since he spent this much time grounded.
This spot is the closest he can get to the skies. He's been to the observation deck in the spaceport time and again, but looking out into the depths of space isn't the same as looking up into the blue of the skies. The first makes no sense to him, but the second feels like... home. And so he stands, hands folded on the handle of his cane, gazing up at the skies as if they have more answers here than they do in his world. They don't, but if a person has nothing to dream about then he might as well be dead. In the isolation of this place his usual motivations don't apply, and so he has to find something else to keep him going.
At least he's looking. And at least up here, he can feel the wind on his face.
Since childhood, it's a question he's asked himself and one others have asked him. His focus is always on the skies, and his gut and his courage and his thoughts are there too. Most of all it's his heart that's in the skies. It's been years since he spent this much time grounded.
This spot is the closest he can get to the skies. He's been to the observation deck in the spaceport time and again, but looking out into the depths of space isn't the same as looking up into the blue of the skies. The first makes no sense to him, but the second feels like... home. And so he stands, hands folded on the handle of his cane, gazing up at the skies as if they have more answers here than they do in his world. They don't, but if a person has nothing to dream about then he might as well be dead. In the isolation of this place his usual motivations don't apply, and so he has to find something else to keep him going.
At least he's looking. And at least up here, he can feel the wind on his face.