Over the last month I’ve flown four times. There’s something innately comforting to me about being in the air, in spite of or maybe even because of my existential preoccupations with the concept of time. It’s soothing to be in such a liminal space where time is completely and utterly yours, with no intrusion from the outside world. There’s a sort of suspended-in-amber quality to being in the air that I haven’t been able to recapture on the bus or train, or god forbid in a waiting room or abandoned mall or whatever image pops up in /r/liminalspace. I find a plane to be my favorite space to listen to music, read, or play games.
Resonating here . 1980s Reconciling by love of unit pride and trouble . Chalk and cheese can exist in the space heartspace