A journey by car, check-in followed by a long wait and security checks before I board the plane. I walk down an aisle that a thousand feet have already walked down, full of expectations of holidays that await on foreign ground. People from different cultures, classes, counties and countries accompany me; a mass of variation. Each individual seeking out a glimpse of the world that they haven’t yet experienced. Canned people in a plane. Blue carpets and navy, leather seats greet my arrival. No smoking, seatbelts on, safety messages and air stewards.
I settle near a peephole window -lucky me. I casually look across the plane at the remaining passengers settle into those standardised seats, and then I overlook the dry, tarmac runway that’s awaits me. The air ripples with the heat. A dozen airport workers with florescent overcoats dart about like mosquitoes, making their final preparations. The luggage is stored, the people are seated and the vibrations from the engines are just starting to buzz under my feet. The silence on the plane is filled with anticipation and impatience.
Some grip onto their armrests whilst others close their eyes, unafraid as the airport rolls away. The trees begin to dart across my window and become alive. The plane picks up speed. I experience a bizarre and extraordinary floating sensation of the butterflies as I shoot up diagonally, facing forward to the sun and onwards. The plane begins to climb and The Earth shrinks. It slowly distances itself from me, falling away. No bricks, no people, no houses, no streets, no land. The floor becomes a miniscule concept I used to be a part of, I live in the air now.
I am in a metal canister, a capsule soaring in this infinite sky. The plane’s presence hardly noticed like a fly darting through the rooms of a vacant house. This plane cannot cover or fill such an empty space, it is simply an inferior object barely affecting the air it flies through. Only two screens of round plastic with a gap in between separate me from the kingdom of white smoke. It is such a unique solid landscape of sky, with clouds that become stepping stones. I glide in a carriage of flying people, miles high and looking down at everything I knew, With not a thought of the jagged rocks and dry stone beneath. A new world of clouds and space.
So detached, so far from injustice and arrogance. I have risen above the wars, poverty, violence and falling trees that groan as they are ripped from the soil below. I can no longer hear the blaze of guns or the cries of children seeking out aid. I soar in misty tranquillity and peace. There is silence and freedom in the water vapour. Dancing and reflecting the sun. The light hit’s the metal crust of the plan and it becomes an illuminated shell.
I am but an alien, a floating traveller who passed land long ago. I am a guardian, an angel looking down at the sorrow grown on soil, with sympathy for those on foot. I have left everything below.
An air steward pushes a grey trolley along the aisle, bearing an assortment of snacks and beverages. I buy a coke. The frothy bubbles jump in my mouth, like a bouncing group of helium balloons just cut loose. Like clouds. Clouds like light sea foam, just blue and white simplicity. This world a playground for any artists that wish to sculpture the fog. I swallow and smile as I continue to fly far up. Onwards into the sun. Mist and light blind me. I look out of the window one final time, the blue surroundings darken to space and reach stars.
I settle near a peephole window -lucky me. I casually look across the plane at the remaining passengers settle into those standardised seats, and then I overlook the dry, tarmac runway that’s awaits me. The air ripples with the heat. A dozen airport workers with florescent overcoats dart about like mosquitoes, making their final preparations. The luggage is stored, the people are seated and the vibrations from the engines are just starting to buzz under my feet. The silence on the plane is filled with anticipation and impatience.
Some grip onto their armrests whilst others close their eyes, unafraid as the airport rolls away. The trees begin to dart across my window and become alive. The plane picks up speed. I experience a bizarre and extraordinary floating sensation of the butterflies as I shoot up diagonally, facing forward to the sun and onwards. The plane begins to climb and The Earth shrinks. It slowly distances itself from me, falling away. No bricks, no people, no houses, no streets, no land. The floor becomes a miniscule concept I used to be a part of, I live in the air now.
I am in a metal canister, a capsule soaring in this infinite sky. The plane’s presence hardly noticed like a fly darting through the rooms of a vacant house. This plane cannot cover or fill such an empty space, it is simply an inferior object barely affecting the air it flies through. Only two screens of round plastic with a gap in between separate me from the kingdom of white smoke. It is such a unique solid landscape of sky, with clouds that become stepping stones. I glide in a carriage of flying people, miles high and looking down at everything I knew, With not a thought of the jagged rocks and dry stone beneath. A new world of clouds and space.
So detached, so far from injustice and arrogance. I have risen above the wars, poverty, violence and falling trees that groan as they are ripped from the soil below. I can no longer hear the blaze of guns or the cries of children seeking out aid. I soar in misty tranquillity and peace. There is silence and freedom in the water vapour. Dancing and reflecting the sun. The light hit’s the metal crust of the plan and it becomes an illuminated shell.
I am but an alien, a floating traveller who passed land long ago. I am a guardian, an angel looking down at the sorrow grown on soil, with sympathy for those on foot. I have left everything below.
An air steward pushes a grey trolley along the aisle, bearing an assortment of snacks and beverages. I buy a coke. The frothy bubbles jump in my mouth, like a bouncing group of helium balloons just cut loose. Like clouds. Clouds like light sea foam, just blue and white simplicity. This world a playground for any artists that wish to sculpture the fog. I swallow and smile as I continue to fly far up. Onwards into the sun. Mist and light blind me. I look out of the window one final time, the blue surroundings darken to space and reach stars.
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