Читать книгу Orrery - Donna Kane - Страница 6

Each year, the Earth diminishes by one one-hundredth of a human blood cell, the moon moves four centimetres away. The distance between me and the International Space Station is less than between my deck and Prince George. You can tell it’s a space station by the way it glides, a silver bead skimming its equation eastward. A faint echo, it’s true—but real nonetheless— of the deer, caught in my headlights then arcing away, my 25 trillion blood cells seized in Surprise! Surprise!