Sailing high above the Atlantic, the roar of twin jet engines pushes the sun farther and farther behind. Through the porthole the horizon bisects sheets of blue into air and water. Rorschach splotches of white clouds stretch into invisibility and refracted light causes me to squint faintly at nothing in particular. Headphones repeat the same old music. The songs that are true are the songs they don't play: I'm leaving on a jet plane, here I go again on my own, and so on.
They say that people who suffer from wanderlust are in a perpetual state of either looking for something that doesn't exist, or running from something they can never get away from. My experience tells me it's not a question of either/or but rather a statement of both and how much.
But what an obvious and patronizing statement. If it's wisdom, it's a pithy wisdom. We are always in a state of running away from something and running towards something else. Always.
This is true of almost anything or anyone in life. It's just far more apparent in someone who organizes their life by flight itineraries.
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