Jun 08, 2014 18:50
I drink my tea in a glass so that the milk turns it into Jupiter. I see astronomy in everyday life.
I see the gravity of every situation. I see the orbits of my friends. I see the entropy of our bodies and our plans. I see the black holes of some people’s minds eating everything around them. I see the pulsars of people unable to sleep from unwanted excitement spinning so fast. I see the gas giants rolling around and telling everyone who will listen that they’re really big. I see rings around fingers as people are pulled into a two-star system. I see the white dwarfs, so dense and hard that nothing will affect them.
And amidst the powerful suns, I see the moonlets and debris. The asteroids that haunt the crossroads of the poor parts of towns, drifting with no gravity to call their own, waiting to become shooting stars before they disappear forever.
I see the comets that drift through every once in a while. Either in real life or on the screens around me. A person or a project that reminds us that some orbits are long and different.
On Mercury, a day is longer than a year. I feel as if I get closer and closer to knowing that every birthday.
We can’t account for ninety percent of the universe and we say we only use ten per cent of our brains.
The nebula of our economy is spreading too thin.
Our galaxy is right here.
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