Mars, a rusty graveyard, if you’re not prepared it will swallow you up, and spit you out into a rusty grave. No life was meant to be in this death pit, but humans are curious we want to go, “where no one has gone before.”

Mountains tower above our tiny base, rusty sand dances across the desolate plains, as an army of rovers, set out towards the sheer cliff face of the closest mountain. 

I see the metallic grey rocket destined to take us home. 12 months, 24 days, and 12 hours, that’s how long we’ve been on this hellish world.