I’ll skip the poetry and just try and convey what went through my mind through the launch.
The shuttle jumps so quickly from the ground. The flames coming out the back. A rainbow made of fire. No. A fire made of rainbow. Doesn’t make sense, but that’s what it really looks like. There’s a full spectrum of reds. Isn't it supposed to be white and bright? What is this? Burnt maroons, hot yellows in streaks, just like a cartoon rainbow. It has texture like rough sandpaper. It’s SO bright. I shouldn’t be looking at this. No one should be looking at something this bright. Am I blind? I tried to look away for a second to see if I could still see. Couldn’t move my eyes away. Must not be blind yet. Who cares. Wow. The fire was long and wide. And it isn't shooting out and stuttering back, but stayed consistent.
At the same time, there are the sounds. You know that moment at the campfire, when some old, dry knot of wood expands and bursts with a crack? It was like that, except instead of sticks it’s building-sized redwood tree trunks cracking over and over. Some of the sounds were small, and they tapped my eardrums. The bigger ones gently puffed against my face and neck. There’s no pattern to it; no match-up to the shape of the fire.
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