It's dark here except for the odd lampfish.
You wouldn't like it--walking's a chore;
trash twenty feet deep and more drifting down
from the oil rigs. Sometimes, although it's rash,
we float up to gaze at the flash of a passing propeller
or sunlight on yellow scum floating far from the shore.
And below, the fifth movement of Berliozs' "Symphonie Fantastique." This is what Michael Collins listened to while orbiting the moon alone as his companions landed on the surface.
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