Starring at the blue sky, dreaming of the ocean
The turbulence wakes me up.
My headphones have fallen off my head and I was about to drool on my shirt, but then the ride got bumpy and my dreams got shaken. My eyes rip open, back to my world. It was a good dream, I think. I shake the sleep from my eyes and cough. The stale smell of fake oxygen fills my nose. A headache follows another cough.
The movie on the screen in front of me is still playing, but there is a glare from the sunny sky outside and I can't see the screen. I think it's a good film, the beginning was anyways and I put back on the headphones, not to listen to the movie - never mind fantasy - but to drown out the sound of the twin engines pushing us through infinity, engines that drown out every other sound.
I look out the window, at the day from the point of view of the sky, and out into infinity, the endless world.
I wonder how hard it was for Magellan to find out the world was round during his attempt at circumnavigation, finding out you can really only go on forever, that there is not fantasy edge of the world. He searched for the end of infinity. I think that we've both found out there is no end to it.
The speaker above my head blares and hisses and comes to life and over the roar of the engine the captain says that we're passing over New York City and to fasten our seat belts because turbulence is expected. I tighten the belt around my waist. Sit. Think about infinity, and look out the window. Sailing through infinity and I wish there was a good song playing right now. One that describes Europe to North America. Dream to reality. Germany to the States. The Rhineland to the Bluegrass. Frankfurt to Kentucky and everything in between. And infinity all around. I look out the window and down onto New York City and wonder if the people below realize they are the center of the world.
The center of the universe, really.
I watch as it passes and I head back into infinity and in my headphones, over the monotone hum of the engines, that endless hum you can't escape, I hear a guitar and wonder if Magellan ever played guitar as he traveled aimlessly through the world. Seems like something one would do passing through infinity. I bet he wished he had a guitar.
My headphones have fallen off my head and I was about to drool on my shirt, but then the ride got bumpy and my dreams got shaken. My eyes rip open, back to my world. It was a good dream, I think. I shake the sleep from my eyes and cough. The stale smell of fake oxygen fills my nose. A headache follows another cough.
The movie on the screen in front of me is still playing, but there is a glare from the sunny sky outside and I can't see the screen. I think it's a good film, the beginning was anyways and I put back on the headphones, not to listen to the movie - never mind fantasy - but to drown out the sound of the twin engines pushing us through infinity, engines that drown out every other sound.
I look out the window, at the day from the point of view of the sky, and out into infinity, the endless world.
I wonder how hard it was for Magellan to find out the world was round during his attempt at circumnavigation, finding out you can really only go on forever, that there is not fantasy edge of the world. He searched for the end of infinity. I think that we've both found out there is no end to it.
The speaker above my head blares and hisses and comes to life and over the roar of the engine the captain says that we're passing over New York City and to fasten our seat belts because turbulence is expected. I tighten the belt around my waist. Sit. Think about infinity, and look out the window. Sailing through infinity and I wish there was a good song playing right now. One that describes Europe to North America. Dream to reality. Germany to the States. The Rhineland to the Bluegrass. Frankfurt to Kentucky and everything in between. And infinity all around. I look out the window and down onto New York City and wonder if the people below realize they are the center of the world.
The center of the universe, really.
I watch as it passes and I head back into infinity and in my headphones, over the monotone hum of the engines, that endless hum you can't escape, I hear a guitar and wonder if Magellan ever played guitar as he traveled aimlessly through the world. Seems like something one would do passing through infinity. I bet he wished he had a guitar.
posted by Chris Miles at 2:30 AM
1 Comments:
This is now my favorite writing of yours. Magellan probably did wish he had a guitar too.
Post a Comment
<< Home