Thursday, August 11, 2011

Rosie

Hey Rosie. I'm writing a letter on here because you wouldn't believe how much it costs to send letters back home to you. I saved some postage money, but it's not enough. Sweet irony. I hope you actually see this. It'd be pretty lame if you didn't.

I started to recognize constellations last week. There are more out here than you can see at home. They're pretty cool. A girl on board programmed one of our windows so that we could connect the dots between the stars and see why they're named the Hunter and the Dragon and Cassiopoeia.

How do you feel, being all major now since your birthday? (since you're not a minor, haha) Eighteen's a pretty big year. Smoke a cigar and buy lottery tickets. They've still got those, right? People say that cigars pollute the air, but they're made from plants, and people burn leaves and it's okay, right?

I saw a cool flower shop at the satellite on your birthday full of all these weird flowers that grow in different gravities. If sending a letter isn't cheap, sending flowers won't work either, but you could could fix them to grow in your backyard if you had some.

Interspace telephone conversations don't happen yet. It sucks. I haven't talked to you or the guys for six months. Remember me? I left to explore the galaxy.

When you never see your friends, do relationships just crumble, or do they stay half-alive and just never grow? Either way, it sucks.

-Terry

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