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Hurtling Through Space with a Head Full of Doubt

A piano, a sine wave, and a dirty tape delay sing a quiet tune. Your life support capsule is dead quiet. The rumble of afterburners has subsided. Metal fatigue from catapulting out of the familiar atmosphere ceases in the vacuum. Your home is 500 thousand miles behind you and as you contemplate your decision to leave the Earth the piano plays an evolving progression of chords. When the accompanying bass is bowed a solemn mood sets in.. hurtling through space with no home, no love, no breeze you say quietly under your breath:


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