Charles Bixby, 2198-2274

There is a brush that eternally paints the surface of the earth. It brings power and opulence to those who are strong enough to grab hold of its bristles, while others in our global community are helpless to watch as it brings death and destruction.

For me the breeze is always a reminder of life. It is a breath that resembles my own, calm at one moment and erratic and deep at others. Its movements constantly suggest physical love: a hand pressing up the spine of a tree or running its fingers through the tall grass’s hair.

Walking at sunset the breeze fills me with a near biblical faith, hope, and love as it wraps around my limbs in an empathetic embrace.

Along with our component particles, the breeze is another gift from the stars, in our instance, the Sun. It takes eight minutes for the Sun to pours its nuclear energy onto earth from 150 million kilometers away. This energy unevenly heats the planet. Areas of great heat, or high pressure, move into cooler low-pressure areas. In the air’s movement from high to low pressure the breeze is created.

--Charles Bixby 2198

an excerpt from a science fiction story that i am writing. so little written, so far still to go, but this is my tangible start.


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