So long ago I escaped Earth it seems. I was looking for a place I’d find unrecognizable. I didn’t want to find aliens. I wanted to be the alien. Everything I left behind had lost all luster and appeal. There was nothing substantive in the relics of my human past. I bid farewell to Rome and its power, Russia and its drama, Africa and its pain, Palestine and its strife, America and its decadence. I looked upward and onward ahead to the stars which had not been charted by man. A new ocean with galaxies and suns more numerous than the sand of Earth’s seas awaited me.
Would there be a new planet for me to call home? A new Earth in which to roam?
I imagined flights of the utmost cosmic fancy. I want to be the alien. I want to be the strange one. I want to be the outsider. I want to be the ugliest part of an endlessly beautiful vista. It’s been thousands of years since I left the mud and rock my species emerged from. This craft made by tainted and industrious hands has held and weathered the solar storms. I’ve reached far beyond what we ever dreamed the universe extended to. I do not think it has a boundary. If I keep traveling it will forever stretch out before me in a beautiful curtsy awing me with its fantastic appeal.
Never to coming back to the place I knew. Always forward to things interstellar and new.