Goodbye, Mr Bradbury
It seems fitting that a once-in-a-lifetime author would die on the day of a once-in-a-lifetime astrological event. Whatever called you home, be it the Venus transit or just reaching the end of your body’s usefulness, your life was spent creating words paralleled by none, worlds more fantastic and horrifying than we left here can create, and you deserve a nice, long rest. Godspeed, sir.
This is the best, most succinct thing I’ve read today about Bradbury.
“There must be something in books, something we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing.”
Kind of fitting — he was the writer of All Summer in a Day, where once in seven years the sun is visible in Venus for two hours and it no longer rains…