He’s struck gold exactly once as a prospector, and it wasn’t enough to sell. But he took the bouillon to the assayer and melted it down to form his lucky ring. That ring has been with him ever since, on every speculation, every pan, every survey. It’s gone with him deep into the river beds and high into the mountain headwaters, and every time it’s brought him luck. Not gold, no, but the contentedness, the happiness, and the serenity of his labor. He’s never worn the ring without wearing a smile with it, and the gold that sparkles in his eyes.
Zirconium is a sturdy metal. With a melting point of over three thousand degrees, low conductivity, and strength, it is commonly used in space to protect fragile hardware. There is no metal better suited to the sturdy, rugged marriage. With its brushed exterior, this solid zirconium ring will handle any rigor you could throw at it, whether you’re climbing a mountain or orbiting the earth.
Around a distant star in a distant galaxy, there’s a planet whose surface is covered by a dense, black water. The tides of its moon and sun raise its ocean in titanic swells that scrape the clouds and lumber slowly across its face. The waves don’t break—there’s nothing to break them—and so if you’re careful, you can plant yourself in a dinghy or a raft right at the trough and ride it up, up, up to the summit, where you can look out and see the world.
The moon is not barren, the moon is sparse. Its face, edge to edge with craters, is not pock-marked, but storied. An archive of all its history, every minor addition, and subtraction recorded in perpetuity. The good, the bad, the neutral; its surface tells everything, holds nothing back. The moon has nothing to hide from the world—it doesn’t need tectonic plates and flowing water to airbrush itself into smoothness. The moon knows what its story is, and it’s fine sharing it with you too, because after all, without craters it would hardly be the moon we know.