We are looking for ones that are neither — neither burning, nor freezing. No, just right. The news of Proxima b is well covered in the video at bottom (and sketched in, to the left of what we Americans call the Southern Cross, in the night sky — inside the tiny box). Do go watch the video for more. And now permit me a late night tangent:
For my part, this late evening (and countless ones before it) — I find I prefer the unwasted grace of. . . mystery. Mystery of irises flashing golden flecks at the edges, and dark sienna in the middle — to the science of blue-eyed Earth-certainty. We are finding that these blue worlds are as common as common might be.
And so in contrast, I will stand with Sweet Will [modified ever so slightly below], and declare that the rarer and darker one — is most oft’ the finer one, thus:
Shakespeare | Sonnet CXXX
My lady’s eyes are nothing like the sun
Coral is no more pink than her lips’ pink
If snow be white, then her skin cinnamon
If hairs be fine wires, resplendent filamented dark wires grow upon her head
And in no perfume is there more delight
Than in the far-away sighs that from my lady seep
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That no music hath a more pleasing sound
I grant I never saw a goddess go, yet
My lady, when she walks, scarcely treads on ground
So, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare. . . .
So it is, all in the eye of the beholder, to the edited Sweet Will. . . and to me, as well.
And the science of Proxima b? Right here (as advertised):