OnAir InAir

I adore how the plane takes off. Right now: it is happening. Trembling legs, ears get stuffed and heart goes up to the sky. I am an absolutely air zodiac sign (#proudtobegemini)- how I love the air and wind and planes and flights and even the turbulence zones. Do I need to mention the two-hour love affairs with occasional handsomeness!?

Taking an average of 6 planes per year is sort of a habit now. And I absolutely love this habit. I even sort of anticipate them.

It makes me reboot. It helps me get on with all.

This amazing smell of fresh sandwiches and soap. This perfect lonesomeness of a whole 200 people in the air- and yes, the nice view. People trying to get busy so that the flight passes unnoticeably boring. The beautiful flight attendants trying to please us and make us buy the expensive stuff with their charming smiles.

I always read in the plane. I always read.

Gone to read. Get some flights.

Ok. I lied. I am in my thoughts still. I have always cherished the fantasy to make an acquaintance with #myman on the plane. So that we could talk and talk (that is all about me). Well, hopefully this will happen.

Some important events in my life are connected with planes and airports. I need to overcome them all. All the truth and my fantasy. All the love and break ups ever had.Every travel had a different man I missed. This does not necessarily imply I have had , oh my God, about ten men. They did not need to be boyfriends to be missed and loved. They were and are just my muses. This one is not an exception.

 With years I have become more sensitive- more lovable, more appreciative, more caring, more bitchy( though I quite professionally conceal this). Loving less, caring more. Better said, less theory, more practice (hope, this does not sound too pervert).

I also love watching the people-the sleepers and the frightened, the tired and the readers. The readers, like my mom, well, yeah, and me.