There is something surreal about flying to a new city, about the leisurely way we take to the air with naught but a roar in our ears to mark the incredible passage. In a way, it is an insular world, where time and distance are but intellectual concepts that do little to assure our senses of the vastness of our passage over sweeping wind sculpted plains, and frozen lakes. Sometimes when I arrive, I have this disjoint feeling of not really knowing where I am, for having not been present in the journey, I almost feel as if I could be anywhere and not really know it. For me, I like to be present at the points of transition, those places where two worlds collide and so as the plane takes to the air or comes down to touch earth again, I feel compelled to somehow mark the moment. I put down my book, turn off my mp3 player and stare at this surreal picture that unfolds in front of me, with such rapid horizons as to keep me completely enthralled. Tonight, as the plane seemed to fall out of the sky towards Winnipeg, I sat with the moon in my eyes, an aching beauty, whose chiseled form held me in stasis. The edges of the earth dissolved into the sky as sand into the ocean, and in the dark waters of air, there was this encapsulating feeling of expectancy. As if on the edge of the tide changing, a breath held. And excitement. For I am in Winnipeg to perform tomorrow night, which in itself is surreal to me. 

I got onto the plane today completely stoked to check out the EnRoute magazine. In fact I had pulled it out of the seat back before I had even put on my seatbelt. And below is the silly picture I took of the EnRoute magazine with moi in it. ~smile~ I have no idea what the people in front of me thought I was taking a picture of ~laugh~. I was so hoping to take a picture of my CD on the inflight entertainment as well, but alas I was on a very small plane and there was NO inflight entertainment. I will keep hoping for the way back ~smile~.

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