Blast off on a wild space adventure! We're crammed into our battered little Subi spacecraft, heading to the dusty outpost of Outpost Aurum. Our mission: to reach the ocean planet of Oceanus Station. Join us as we station-hop through space, in a calamity of errors, as intrepid space tourists. Script Our battered Subi spacecraft, a relic of pre-Collapse Jump engineering, groaned under the weight. Myself, BK, and Katcha, the genetically modified spoodle with its enhanced olfactory sensors, along with enough protein paste to outlast a minor vacuum breach, were crammed inside. A brand-new Brass Monkey cryo-unit hummed in the boot, our lifeline for the long haul. Our mission: a jump from Beagal's orbital dock to the dusty outpost of Outpost Aurum, a waypoint on the long haul to Oceanus Station, a planet known for vast oceans. Outpost Aurum, a rumoured oasis of functional grav plating, was our first target. Beagal's orbital dock was a pressure cooker of recycled air and stal...
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Our Fortunate Lives
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The Future of Romanticism
And then, a fracture. The past whispered to them in the quiet of a gilded hall, surrounded by splendour too perfect to be accurate. It was a song—fragile, ephemeral—a thread of memory tugging at their hearts. Its notes were humble and unassuming, yet they carried the weight of the cottage, the dusty beams, and the worn rug where their dream first sparked.
In the echoing chambers of memory, where shadows dance with the remnants of dreams, a woman's thoughts drift to a simpler time, a life painted with the warm hues of shared laughter and humble aspirations.
Beside her, a man's gaze pierces the veil of the present, his mind fixated on the ever-distant horizon of ambition, each achievement a stepping stone to a grander vision.
Yet, in the quiet depths of their hearts, the echoes of their initial dreams, once whispered in the warmth of a shared space, still resonate with the same intensity, a testament to the enduring power of their intertwined ambitions.
"Do you remember the cottage?" she said.
"I do," he said. "The dust in the air, the way the light made it glow like gold... It felt alive, didn’t it?"
"It was alive," she said. "Because we were. Everything we touched felt real. It wasn’t about what we had; it was about what we dreamed."
"And we dreamed of this," he said, gesturing vaguely around them. "A life so vast, so full, it would drown out any doubt."
"But it hasn’t, has it?" she said. "The doubt is louder now than it ever was. It’s deafening."
"I hear it too," he said. "Every time I look at what we’ve built, it whispers that we’ve lost something more precious than we could ever gain."
"We lost ourselves," she said. "Or maybe we just left ourselves behind, somewhere back there, in the cottage, on that rug."
"Do you think we can go back?" he said.
"To the cottage?" she said. "No. The cottage is gone. But we can go back to what it meant. To what we were."
"And what were we?" he said.
"Believers," she said. "Not in wealth, not in power, but in each other. In life, we can create together, not apart."
"It’s strange," he said. "We’ve climbed so high, yet it feels like the ground is further away than ever."
"Because we stopped touching it," she said. "Stopped feeling it beneath our feet. And now, here we are, suspended in a life that feels... weightless."
"Weightless and empty," he said.
"But it doesn’t have to stay that way," she said.
"Do you really believe that?" he said.
"I do," she said. "Because I still hear the song. Do you?"
"The one from the cottage?" he said. "I thought I’d forgotten it. But now... now I think it’s been playing all along."
"It has," she said. "We just stopped listening. But if we can hear it again, we can follow it. It’s never too late."
"And if we follow it?" he said.
"Maybe we’ll find what we lost," she said. "Not the past, but the part of ourselves we left there."
"Together?" he said.
"Always together," she said.
Hand in hand, they turned towards the veiled horizon, and their intertwined ambitions became more determined by the bittersweet wisdom of experience. The future, a vast and unwritten canvas, stretched before them, promising both the thrill of discovery and the ache of uncertainty. With each step, they embraced the unknown, their hearts echoing with the quiet understanding that the pursuit of meaning was a dance with destiny, a journey that would forever wind through the ever-shifting landscapes of their fortunate lives.
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The Boardroom Knight Video Poem The Cultural Landscape of Boardroom Knights The Culture of Boardrooms The Cultural Landscapes of Boardrooms https://jjfbbennett.taplink.ws/ John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can subscribe to JJFB's work via Blogger , YouTube , Flicker , Facebook , Instagram and Deviant Art . If you want to support his art creation, you can sponsor JJFBbennett through PayPal or a subscription via Patreon here . If you want to acquire JJFB's art creations as an NFT - John's Opensea NFT profile is https://opensea.io/JJFBbennett Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge Copyright This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.
DAY ONE Our trusty Subaru Forester was packed with me, my partner Brenda, Katchalla (our concerned but enthusiastic spoodle), and enough snacks to survive a tiny apocalypse. With our brand new Brass Monkey securely tucked into the boot, we set off on our mission: the first leg of an epic journey from Darwin to Ulladulla, NSW, with Daly Waters shimmering in our minds as our initial oasis. We departed from Darwin, the tropical humidity clinging to us like a second skin. After about 98 kilometers, the promise of caffeine lured us into the Adelaide River Country Store. Brenda, ever the coffee connoisseur, declared their coffee to be "a damn good coffee," which is a high compliment indeed. Meanwhile, Katcha sniffed around, searching for the right spot to relieve himself and stumbled upon the store's no dickhead policy. Back on the Stuart Highway, the landscape began to slowly transform. The lush greens of Darwin gradually gave way to the more resilient vegetation of the outb...
Nu Jazz Storm Freak Sonata Description Experience the chaotic energy of "Storm Freak Sonata" by JJFBbennett! Dive into a world of "acid jazz madness" and "rhythm of disaster" as rain falls and thoughts drip out. This intense track is filled with vivid imagery of storms, ghosts, a sense of surrender, and a touch of breathlessness. Listen to "Storm Freak Sonata" and get lost in the sonic chaos! Lyrics Snippet Rain comes down, acid jazz madness Skin slick, thoughts drip out my skull No time to think, no time at all World is slanted, twisted, tilted— JJFBbennett music https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrxQKZRnAka3dliF7lp1-Ow Keywords JJFBbennett, Storm Freak Sonata, Rhythm of Disaster, Acid Jazz, Alternative Rock, Indie, New Music, Official Audio, YouTube Music, Dark Music, Chaotic Music, Intense Music, Rain Song, Storm Song, Madness, Australia Music, nu Jazz Hashtags #JJFBbennett #StormFreakSonata #NewMusic #AcidJazz #AlternativeMusic #DarkMusic ...
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