The Sensory Details of My Love For Star Wars

I really love the Star Wars Universe. How much? It's hard to say. But how I love it? The answer came to me a little easier. There's many different ways to love a thing, and upon rumination I realized that the ways I love this ever expanding universe (shout out to Edwin Hubble!) can be categorized pretty easily. So, here for your perusal, is my love of Star Wars explained using the five senses: sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell. May the Fourth be with you!

Sight

The binary sunset of Tatooine, the melted rose and lilac, contrasted with the searing tone of the suns that casts golden light upon faces pursed with wanderlust.

Sweeping robes, the silhouette of a Jedi beneath the shadows of the Temple.

The blazing red of a lightsaber through steam, piercing through the darkness.

Sturdy little Ewoks hopping amongst heavy tree boughs.

The Millennium Falcon.

Shining Beskar armor, a ragged cape, and the legend held within.

Round, shiny little droids, or tiny little rat catcher droids, nervous little "no", and exasperated gleaming gold droids.

Green light sabers, pulsing with the vitality of their Jedi as their gentle light clashes with livid red.

Tiny, stocky, fluffy Porgs, especially when they just shoot straight up in fright.

Hyperspace and the streaks of heaven you pass by, lighting up cockpits and casting a celestial glow over ponderous faces or solemn helmets.

Sound

The Imperial March.

The theme songs for The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett are killer . . . ha!

The hum of a lightsaber swinging through the air, clashing against another.

The call of wares and deals in the markets of every planet.

R2-D2's screams.

"You underestimate my power."

The gentle lilt of a Coruscant (*cough* British *cough*) accent.

The Duel of Fates. Probably a top 10 song from a soundtrack in movie history, no I will not be taking questions or constructive criticism.

James Earl Jones as Darth Vader, the incredible base and dignified finality that didn't even sound menacing . . . and yet his performance was so menacing, like, how did he even-?

A tiny little Porg squawk. Their teensy little warbles. The squawks of utter dismay and devastation. I just love Porgs.

The original Cantina song!

Pedro Pascal's voice acting, I mean that is good work right there--

Poe and Finn:

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

". . . You need a pilot."

"I need a pilot."

Touch

The soft fluff of my mini-Porg shoulder plush.

The cool hilt of a lightsaber.

The slightly rough fabric of the Jedi robes they made on Halloween 2000.

The paperback cover for "Jedi Quest: The Way of the Apprentice". I never did finish it . . .

The detailing of my wooden music box, the curves and edges of Darth Vader's helmet, the thin yet sturdy metal of its crank handle.

The cotton fabric of my shirt, C-3PO and R2-D2 waving from its front pocket.

Taste

The salty popcorn, and the sharp, carbonated sting of ice cold Coke in the movie theatre.

The pacific cooler Caprisun I nearly choked on when Anakin slaughtered the younglings.

The sweetness of the Outpost Puff at Docking Bay 7, chocolate and panna cotta fluffed on a fork and melting languidly over my tongue.

The Hurricane daquiri I was crying into by the end of Rogue One, rum and salt mixing together.

Smell

The fabric softener in my blanket as I curl up to watch The Force Awakens.

Buttered popcorn and BK whoppers in the movie theater, watching Anakin slaughter villagers in Episode II.

Roasting meat and warm bread at the Tatooine Market.