Bournemouth to Weymouth, towns named for where rivers meet the sea. Ancient folds of rock help define the coast.
This is from the tumblr of Col. Chris Hadfield, a Canadian astronaut currently living on the International Space Station.
But I like to think of it as Space’s tumblr, and every single post is like, “Hey, guys. It’s me, Space. Look at you down there. Can you believe all the silly crap you’re fighting and worrying over? I mean, JUST LOOK AT YOU. You guys better cowgirl up and work together to keep this place running, because that is one gorgeous motherf*&ing planet you’ve got.”
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
(Wave goodbye to the myth of 2012.)
Happy holidays, with jetpacks.
Bester’s protagonist hurls himself naked from a spaceship, fuelled by hatred. Bester’s novel hurled itself naked from the science fiction of its day, fuelled by something hipper than hatred, more potent.
William Gibson’s introduction to the Library of America edition of The Stars my Destination by Alfred Bester