Going round in a circle and finding yourself back where you began. There's something frustrating about it, but there's something utterly poetic still. Perhaps you've travelled miles wide, but if you find yourself in the same place at the end, then you haven't actually gone anywhere, have you?
Will us humanity end that way? Rising and rising, only to destroy ourselves with our own prodigiousness and send our flimsily-constructed artificial world crumbling back to its foundations with nothing but tainted rocks on which to build again?
If you keep moving straight, will you end up arriving back where you started? Maybe across the Bering Straits in winter, from Russia to Alaska, and then on a ship to Portugal? Has anyone done it before?
As the crow flies; such a pretty, pretty phrase. It carries this air of disregard of the synthetic and natural boundaries, of bypassing it all by taking to the air, as a crow, as a shadow across the sun...
Holding patterns are amazing. When weather conditions or other things the prevent safe landing of planes, they go into a holding pattern--a looping flight pattern over the airport--until conditions become favourable. Our plane to Seoul was put into one, thanks to the fog. It was surreal, somehow, being on the plane while it circled the airport.
