The Wandering Astronaut Written and designed by Harry Bruns Numb. Drifting. Wandering. I’m in a spacesuit in the viscous galaxy. Floating through space, time running slowly. When we close our eyes, do we time travel? If I close mine where will I go? The past. The future. Or rolling ahead with current times, in spacial slumber? Conjecture. Simply I don’t know in the vast vacuums of space. Just drifting out amongst the stars. Up close, they illuminate your way in space, holding you together like a photo album - memories untold that keep you going. Black holes aren’t so kind. Memories you wish you’d forget, people too. You take the rough with the smooth. The galaxy here is winding, casting out my journey and where I must go and where I must not go. The ecstasy of colour bursts through my mind, great chunks of the galaxy illuminated with time. Deep blue mostly fought off by raging red, supported now in a battle for the stars with green. Much beauty never experienced and always experienced by me. Sometimes, I am allowed to walk planets as an observer on the outside of civilisation. Endless miles of joy and happiness, the things I cling to in space. Meeting people can happen and they make me smile. Although it’s not for very long. Every second that passes, they grow further away. The cold, machinations of the galaxy. The superlative souls of joy. I fear I am condemned to one but I keep going. Never stopping. I have a purpose.
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