Guin’s stomach grumbled and growled.
Working voraciously over the last three sols, she had forgotten to eat, sipping water throughout the day from the tube set wrapped around her face which included a microphone, water siphon and liquid food tube.
A migraine headache reminded her to eat.
She slurped down several liquid mouthfuls, taking in not only nutrition but also liquefied medicine she would have forgotten otherwise.
She was back in her meditation zone, remembering a walk around the lake back on Earth, the day when she finished moving all of her belongings to the training center, having said goodbye to her loved one.
Ready to start her new life.
A book is like a garden carried in the pocket.
— Arabian Proverb
She hadn’t been completely sure at first that time would lose meaning as the decades passed; when 200 marsyears sped by she truly lost track of time, able to see history in any direction.
And, in any direction, were friends there to support her, friends who were family, friends who were like family, friends who were not human, and friends in-between.
By not resisting the changes around her, she grew faster, stronger, her love of/for the universe showing itself in the extension of her friends all the way out to the Oort Cloud, a network of vastly separated celestial bodies.
When I want to read a book I write one.
— Benjamin Disraeli
While she surveyed an interesting set of icy rocks with Lee, she sliced up her thoughts, letting herself roam freely while in automatic mode monitoring the instruments scanning the area for specific chemical signatures.
The meditative practices they had developed together on Mars allowed the two of them to connect their thoughts when they wanted and wander their imaginations as one, but sometimes they wanted to wander separately so they could come back and share a new/old memory as if they hadn’t seen each other in a while, keeping their relationship fresh on long journeys.
Books say: she did this because. Life says: she did this. Books are where things are explained to you; life is where things aren’t. I’m not surprised some people prefer books. Books make sense of life. The only problem is that the lives they make sense of are other people’s lives, never your own.
— Julian BarnesA book must be an axe for the frozen sea inside of us.
— Franz Kafka
Guin opened a thought trail with a group of sisters still living on Earth. They talked about an upcoming cosplay event being broadcast internationally, asking Guin for advice. Her insides warmed, feeling wanted by friends she had made in her days at university while working on her postgraduate degree in her 20s.
Many friendships last a lifetime.
Some friendships extend over many lifetimes.
treetrunkvine 