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I had a dream that I could fly. I couldn’t stop day-dreaming about how I would fly like a big bird and scan the world below me. I was imaging I would be the next Eratosthenes, whom I just learned about as a 6th grader, discovering the Earth is round. After begging my dad for buying the most expensive toy I ever had—a best plastic remote-control airplane—I, Like many other young boys, filled my satisfaction with procession of the pure dream—flying. The first time flying it warned me that not all the dreams have a happy ending: I drove the accelerating plane crushing towards the side of the huge playground, onto a tree. When everyone around me was shocked by my horrible skill, I run to the broken plane, finding that the right wring was broken as well as the wires. I held it up lightly, bring it back home. It was an embarrassed moment, and I didn’t realize that that was a moment leading me to success. It gave me a chance to keep trying. Working with my dad’s friend who is a hot fan of RC plane, playing “Real Flight”, a simulator, to get a sense of real flying, I started to know more ab...

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