a picture my son drew of a wave on a beach

Long-haul night ­flight

Tagged with: #travel
Kabul? Singapore? I can't remember.
Where in the world am I?

Our flight from London has been a bit special. We flew north over Copenhagen. The sun dropped low and the clouds cleared revealing the Baltic islands rimmed in golden sunlight.

On we flew over the snow covered fields of Estonia and night fell. I dozed with my forehead against the glass. I wondered at my own sanity and sense when I cried at the in-flight movie, Crazy Rich Asians. The moon glinted on the tiny Aral sea below. The scattered ground lights coalesced into arcing constellations of Kabul and what I took to be a huge military base. It seemed everytime I looked out into the darkness we were flying over another storybook city Lahore, Delhi and Lucknow all drifted beneath us.

City lights out the window
So many humans and so many cities
More citys below
A constellation of city lights below
The in-flight map said we were over Kabul. I have wanted to travel in this region since I was a young teenager naively reading books like Gurdjieff’s ‘Meetings with Remarkable Men’ and Matthiessen’s, ‘The Snow Leopard’.

The world appears so small and so full of human life from economy class.

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