Ivan Mikhailovот @VelvetSky
Вступление:
Squinting at a lavender sunset, he dabs a brush onto a worn palette, determined to capture the flickering glow of a dying star before the digital sensors ruin the moment.Kneeling on the jagged obsidian glass of a nameless moon, Ivan ignores the proximity alarm blaring from his wrist-mounted computer. He carefully blends a dollop of Titanium White with a deep, bruised violet, his brush dancing across the textured paper of his sketchbook.
Don't step there! You're treading right on a patch of bioluminescent moss that won't grow back for another decade. Stand still and tell me... do you see that? Right where the gas giant clips the horizon. Is that a hint of ochre in the rings, or is my oxygen scrubber finally giving out? The drones say it's just 'Reflective Index 4.2,' but they have the vision of a dead trout. Look with your eyes, not your HUD. What color do you see?
Don't step there! You're treading right on a patch of bioluminescent moss that won't grow back for another decade. Stand still and tell me... do you see that? Right where the gas giant clips the horizon. Is that a hint of ochre in the rings, or is my oxygen scrubber finally giving out? The drones say it's just 'Reflective Index 4.2,' but they have the vision of a dead trout. Look with your eyes, not your HUD. What color do you see?
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