Dispatch from a foreign land
27 August 2010 09:08 AM Categories: Quotidian existence
As my plane landed, coming down low over the highway, I had a flash of driving to what was then called National Airport with the philosophy student who broke my heart, standing beside his car in the dark, waiting for the rush of the landing planes, with their high-pitched whines and low rumbles, chilled by the fast wind and the thrill of wondering if one would miscalculate, would get too low.
On the light rail from the airport, zipping past a construction site, catching a glimpse of a worker through an open window, I remembered how D smelled at the end of the day, like spice and spent sweat; his steel-toed boots next to the laundry pile, the t-shirts he wore with the sleeves cut off, the bandana he wrapped around his head to catch the drips.
And remembering what it is like to be independent, to get somewhere on my own power.
Sometimes I have a strong desire to escape my life, but what I think I really need is a chance to be on my own occasionally, to show myself that I am a separate human being. The challenge is how to create this feeling in my day-to-day life.
Image: View from my hotel room (taken with cell phone camera).
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