Who owns the moon is a complicated subject. My first instinct was, what the hell? Did a rock hit it or something? My only dream was how to reach the shore safely. I was toying with various things on the submarine. And these were all out in the middle of the countryside set off from each other by wild vegetation or ornate gardens. Lots was happening at the same time – the TV on, a record playing, the radio on. “Wow,” I thought, “work is a pretty taxing place for many people.” We suddenly became archaic remnants of the pre-digital age. That was the hardest moment. But I didn’t really realize the implications of it when I was a teenager. We’ll never be more than unwitting missionaries, doing magic tricks to dazzle the crowd.
Howie Good, 2017