When I was small, I vowed to ride a hot air balloon straight up to the sun. I saved my coppers and silvers, even the five-pound birthday note uncle gave me. One day, mum surprised me with a balloon ride. It was red and gigantic and amazing. Yet when it soared to its zenith, I saw the sun, still far away. I cried a little.

"Is this all the closer I'll ever get?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so, cub," said mum.

That day, I learned that somewhere between one person's logic and another person's dreams lies the realm of possibility.