Impressions of an airplane window

[jducoeur]

Time to travel, time to reflect...

Flying out of Boston on a clear evening is the reason window seats were invented. From high up, the streetlamps make bright golden necklaces, laid over with occasional fluffy cushions of cloud.

The definition of truest blackness is being able to see nothing outside, save the light at the tip of the wing. Even the wing itself is entirely invisible, black on black -- the light simply drifts along beside my window, a few feet away, embedded in the black.

Over a sparsely populated stretch of the midwest: looking down is like looking up at the night sky. Here is a sparse spiral galaxy of a small town, spinning out from its center. Around it are the lonely stars of remote houses, surrounded by purest empty space.

Comments

[antoniseb.livejournal.com]

I always try to stay connectd to what town I'm looking at, and landmarks I recognize for as much of the flight as possible. I seldom get continuous understanding of this all the way to Route 128.

[peregrinning.livejournal.com]

Ahhh....

Thanks for that wonderful image of the Midwest, my home. I recognize and resonate with that description.

It is different from the ground, but not by much. I remember gazing out the window of my Dad's car, watching farm lights drift along in the distance, through the deep darkness of moonless nights.