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thinking about looking down
Dec. 12th, 2018 06:26 pmI make about one trip a year that requires an airplane. I fly from one of three cities in Missouri -- Kansas City, Columbia, or St. Louis -- to Los Angeles, where I spend about a week, and then I fly home.
A few times, I've had the good luck of having the window seat at night.
Watching a city from the air, especially during decent, has always felt like one of the nearest things to visual poetry. They're these living, crystalline organisms, twinkling, and always full of movement that looks almost like dancing, or the flow of some kind of blood that lights from within.
Every so often, driving at night during the winter, I'll catch sight of some other road through the trees. I'll see other cars dancing, and I'll feel suddenly that I'm part of one of those delicate, living lattices that I've seen from the air.
It's overwhelming. It's wonderful.
A few times, I've had the good luck of having the window seat at night.
Watching a city from the air, especially during decent, has always felt like one of the nearest things to visual poetry. They're these living, crystalline organisms, twinkling, and always full of movement that looks almost like dancing, or the flow of some kind of blood that lights from within.
Every so often, driving at night during the winter, I'll catch sight of some other road through the trees. I'll see other cars dancing, and I'll feel suddenly that I'm part of one of those delicate, living lattices that I've seen from the air.
It's overwhelming. It's wonderful.
