Twinkling Lights

I don’t care much for flying.  In fact, I was petrified of flying for a few years.  Now I just don’t like it.  But I love landing at night.  I love flying over cities, watching the twinkling lights of the street cars and the lamp poles.  When we are low enough to make out the outlines of houses, I wonder what the people are doing inside of them.  Watching television?  Eating dinner?  Laughing? Crying? I like to watch the traffic on roads; little ribbons of red and white.  From the sky, I can see patterns of the city.  I can see strong neighborhood grids and suburban sprawl.  I can see the city’s “voids”, perhaps a body of water or an open field.  From the night sky, cities are peaceful like the first winter’s snow, yet pulsing like a beat of a heart at the same time.    The lights become crisper, more unique from one another as we get closer.  The organic shape of the city becomes more defined.  The buildings become clearer.  The cars become more than a candy cane of color.  The trees separate themselves out from the clusters.  The beautiful city, so peaceful and serene from way up high becomes more rigid, more real.  Then BOOM, thud, thud, we are on the ground.

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