::air::

a formation of vintage japanese bombers coming and going over our home. i love airplanes. ever since i can remember i have loved flying. the thought of being up in the air by the sheer mental will of people who dreamed that it could be so is pure magic to me. my first time on a plane was when i was a 8 month old, don't remember it obviously. the second time i was four and i have vague memories of my nose being glued to the tiny rounded rectangle of a window, eyes peeled for angels which i was sure were to be seen while flying through the clouds. thats where angels live, inside clouds, didnt you know? third time i was nine and i definitely remember the windows and clouds, but this time i was on the look out for gorillas on board. this was 1986 and we were flying to colombia (as well as the first two times) to visit my grandparents for the summer. remember all the fears of gorilla terrorist groups? i do. and i took it quite literally and was absolutely certain there would be a huge silverback on our flight, slobbering and beating his chest and not letting anyone get into the bathroom. there wasnt in case you were wondering. trip four to colombia i was 16 and had lost all eye for the window, entirely too busy combing the other isles for cute boys to talk to. i found one, but was to shy to stop and chat, instead i went to the bathroom ten million times so i could look at him from the corner of my eyes. puberty. go figure. now of course when i fly i am back to appreciating the view. when the plane starts to descend for landing i like to scan the earth to find any tiny people specks, wondering how high up you can be and still make out a person. not very for me, i have bad eyes. put me back in the air though, i want to keep trying.