Since childhood, I’ve been fascinated by the night sky. The stars, planets, and glowing trail of the Milky Way always felt like a doorway to something larger—something infinite. Even when I didn’t fully understand what I was looking at, I knew it made me feel small in the best possible way. That vast, dark canvas overhead sparked questions that still live in me today: What else is out there? Are we truly alone? Will we ever reach beyond our world?
Growing up, access to space-related content was limited. I devoured whatever books or shows I could find about astronomy, rockets, or science fiction. But it wasn’t until college that I encountered Star Wars for the first time. By then, I had developed a better understanding of English, which allowed me to appreciate the storytelling, dialogue, and deeper themes woven into the saga. That moment changed everything.
Star Wars wasn’t just a movie—it was a vision. A cinematic universe that blended space travel with myth, morality, and the human condition. For me, it wasn’t only about lightsabers or epic battles. It was about the courage to fight for what's right, even against overwhelming odds. It was about people from different planets, species, and cultures coming together for a greater purpose. And most of all, it was about hope.
One element that deeply enhanced this experience for me was the music of John Williams. His score wasn’t just background—it was emotion itself. The sweeping sound of the main theme instantly filled me with excitement and wonder. The Imperial March evoked dread and tension every time Darth Vader appeared. The Binary Sunset theme—those haunting notes as Luke looks at the twin suns—made me feel the ache of longing for something beyond the horizon. It was Williams' music that often brought tears to my eyes, as it amplified the emotional gravity of each moment. In many ways, the music was the soul of Star Wars, guiding the audience through its epic journey.
Since then, my love for space has only grown stronger. I follow real-world developments in astronomy, space missions, and private space travel closely. Every time a new Mars rover lands, a telescope captures a distant exoplanet, or a space probe sends back data from the edge of the solar system, I feel like we’re one step closer to making those childhood dreams come true.
I still rewatch Star Wars from time to time—not just for entertainment, but for inspiration. It reminds me that imagination is the first step toward discovery. Science fiction often lays the foundation for future science fact.
My greatest wish is that, within my lifetime, I’ll see humanity truly begin its journey into space—not just as visitors, but as explorers and settlers. I hope to witness the first permanent lunar base, the first humans walking on Mars, and maybe even the beginnings of interstellar probes.
If that happens, then perhaps the famous phrase “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…” won’t just be an opening line to a beloved film—it will be a reflection of where we once began, before we truly reached for the stars.