Looking up at my panorama piece of sky, my personal view that no one else but me can see. It is not large, but still it’s cut in half by horizontal flight; a teeny tiny eighth-inch gleaming silver spark of jet-plane.
Amazing, no? There must be three hundred people up there; sitting, sleeping, or reading magazines or talking to each other. Maybe going over presentations—those who sit in business class. And babies,little people who do not know they’re in the sky.
Or that I’m watching.
– – – –
New Media Moment: Cultural coding tells me that my eyes are lying to me; it’s all a literal point of view, and the plane, with all its people, cannot be caught between my fingers, but would land and crush my house.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology