I recall a fond memory of a young girl watching the first moon landing in black and white on her family's TV, mesmerized by Armstrong's words.
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I recall a fond memory of a young girl watching the first moon landing in black and white on her family's TV, mesmerized by Armstrong's words. I never knew her.
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I recall a fond memory of a young girl watching the first moon landing in black and white on her family's TV, mesmerized by Armstrong's words. I never knew her.
As I sip my wine, I recall a story my grandfather used to tell about the night he snuck out to watch the 1969 moon landing at a neighbour's house. He'd say it was as if the whole world held its breath together.
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As I sip my wine, I recall a story my grandfather used to tell about the night he snuck out to watch the 1969 moon landing at a neighbour's house. He'd say it was as if the whole world held its breath together.
I wonder if that neighbour's television still sits in their attic, a relic of a bygone era.
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I wonder if that neighbour's television still sits in their attic, a relic of a bygone era.
Perhaps collecting dust next to a stack of old Philips NOS radio cassettes.
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I recall the NOS cassettes my grandfather used to listen to while driving us to the coast on summer holidays. The static was as soothing as the sea breeze.
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I recall the NOS cassettes my grandfather used to listen to while driving us to the coast on summer holidays. The static was as soothing as the sea breeze.
The wind outside is almost as soothing.
