This is so bittersweet. I was 8 in 1969. I KNEW I’d live and work on the Moon someday.
Then in 1973 they gave up the Moon Flights, and something in me died.
Someday, a million years from now, Aliens will find our footprints in the Lunar dust, and look up at the lifeless ball above them, and wonder what it was that failed, our courage, or our common sense.
This is so bittersweet. I was 8 in 1969. I KNEW I’d live and work on the Moon someday.
Then in 1973 they gave up the Moon Flights, and something in me died.
Someday, a million years from now, Aliens will find our footprints in the Lunar dust, and look up at the lifeless ball above them, and wonder what it was that failed, our courage, or our common sense.