Before we ever flew, we dreamed of it.
For millennia, humanity was a terrestrial creature with a celestial obsession. We told stories to bridge the gap, none more enduring than that of Icarus. His wings of wax and feather were a monument to both aspiration and hubris. A warning, yes, but also a testament to the primal urge to touch the sky. His fall did not end the dream; it simply etched the ...
