sunnudagur, júní 11, 2006

non lieux

Airplanes are no more places than airports are, it occurs to me. It occurs to me at 36,000 feet, on the second leg of what has unexpectedly become a three-leg journey zig-zagging acrosss the face of the country. Wedged between fellow passengers, I find jet-powered cruising altitude less congenial than one achieved last night over dinner with the aid of wine and wit.

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