When I hit the atmosphere, I’ll burn like a meteor.
I wonder, if anyone’ll see me?
Ray Bradbury has passed away. When I was a teenager, I devoured every book of his I could get my hands on, usually musty paperbacks from the one used book store in town. His stories, especially The Martian Chronicles, seeped into my brain, igniting images stronger than any movie. His ideas influenced how I observed the world. If I can ever learn to work with images a fraction as well as Ray Bradbury worked with language, I’ll consider myself a lucky man. He was a poet, a poet of ideas, and the world is a poorer place without him in it.
Now do him the honor of going out and reading a book.
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