Forget Me So I Can Remember

Greens and lovely red roses.

A week until my getaway and I am getting the graveyard chills.

It has been ten years since my last flight. Aviation runs in the blood so I have never been weary about boarding a airplane. There is another side to it, however. Deep in my mind I have always associated airplanes with freedom and invincibility (like most others, perhaps).

Many a Sunday night was spent alongside Airport rd watching airplanes depart and arrive with my father when I was younger.

Now it seems the only sky gazing I do is while intransit to point A, point B or point C.

And it gets me every time. All it takes is one lone airplane in the sky to make my soul feel ever so low. Some where, at some point I lost touch. I forgot what it was like to be up. To be out of the way. To be on the way, destination known.

Life has been a puzzle of sorts, with too much time in holding pattern or making the blueprints presentable to others. No time spent up high, only rocks to hide under.

This coming Sunday- I will depart from society-zero and cross the Atlantic Ocean…

To arrive in society point five where inspiration still lingers in the air, and  the fig trees allow refuge for your mind and your soul, where coming home means something and the  future has passed; the past is the present, and comfortably so.

Lost luggage, forgotten items, exaggerated time frames and bi-lingual flight attendants asking if you would like TEA (cha) or COFFEE (cafe)?

 

N soho

 

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