A planet far enough to bury our failures.
A world large enough to build new gods.
A graveyard - with better views.
Before the dust rose,
humanity made a choice.
Humanity was never content with what it was given.
The seas. The forests. The sky. All gifts… and still not enough.
We said we reached for the stars out of wonder.
But the truth was quieter. Sharper. Hungrier.
We reached because Earth could no longer hold our weight.
The Mars era did not begin with astronauts saluting the sun.
It began in rooms without windows.
Where ambition outran caution.
Project Crimson was never a promise.
It was a calculation.
And the cost was measured in silence.
Mars wasn’t chosen for its promise.
It was chosen for its distance.
Far enough to bury what Earth could not keep.
Fragments from the Martian World...
What happens when a world inherits our wounds...
but none of our wisdom?