Susan LaffertyWe board a flight with passports in hand. Tickets to the far side of the sea.
No turning back now.
Seatbelts fasten. Engines roar. And this capsule we’re all sitting in hurtles forward then lifts.
Up. To and through the clouds.
Sun pours in.
I look down at the neat miniature houses, roads, fields, forests.
One last look.
Crowds. Criss-crossing street intersections. Train stations. Shopping malls.
In multiple directions.
Pressing up escalators. Hiking staircases. Moving ever forward into trains. Onto sidewalks. Through subways.
Crowds. In your face. Up close. Yet often silent. Solitary.
Eyes on their phones.
Looking down. Or away. Staring off into the distance.
