“Life is a collection of colours when all you"ve known is night.”
SIR WALTER MERRYWEATHER
SIR WALTER MERRYWEATHERThe trembling fingers were my own, they rattled on the cockpit like bones in a bucket. I stood before a sun I thought never to see and marvelled. Like a giant tomato cresting the horizon, our dying star illuminated the world with colour, the Arctic ice suffused blood-red by its near death. No longer was my world awash in moonlight, but actual daylight.
If not for Linka"s steadying grip, my tether to the world I"d left behind, I might have drifted away swamped by such overpowering brilliance, but as her fingers tightened about mine, my confidence grew. If I"d had a soul to anchor, I"d have said she did, but I didn"t, a salient fact I"d forever regret.
The Zeppelin we travelle
