If you go to the baseball field and get an old paper stuck in the wheel of your bicycle, you may just get to the edge of the universe.
Captain says that after you travel everywhere and see everything, there's a cliff where the universe ends. It's terribly hard for me to imagine it, coming from a minute freckle of existence where mothers do all the laundry and a murder smells like hamburgers on the grill. But it sounds possibly sort of about 23% worth it.
The spacecraft left today and I went with it. It wouldn't have happened if the wind didn't blow an application for an expedition of everything in my path. There were fourteen out of fifteen signatures. I can't believe they let me come. The only skills I have are feeding birds and wearing a backpack stuffed with books and angst. What do I know of stars and dimensions?
But I guess I did return the application.
The man gave me a grouchy look at first, but he said he liked the galaxies in my eyes and to call him Captain.
I don't have galaxies in my eyes. If I did, surely Howard would have said something. But no matter. The way Captain puts it, there will be much more than galaxies to see very soon.
For now, I'm watching the sun set like a loaf of bread from the spacecraft. I'm floating in the ozone layer above the apple orchards, so if you're passing by that way, wave goodbye. Tomorrow we'll hit Italy. After all, we have to see the world before getting too carried away. It shouldn't take long; it's just the world.
No one is going to believe this.
I feel like a mess.
But here is a preface.
I'll write until I'm at the precipice.
You know, the big one.
At the edge of the universe.
