A 3-point-turn
in some domaine's
driveway. Fields
of grapes, a red tractor
and a rainbow.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Transit
The Frankfurt sky is gray, the weather comfortable. Fresh warm air, not drafty, wet or stale, a welcome balm after ten or so hours in flight from LA.
It's become Thursday while we weren't paying attentions. Dark until at 4.30am, coffee began to spice the cabin air and window shades slid up to meet a day.
All of a sudden it's 2.15 in the afternoon and my body stiffly creaks in my seat, knees stiff from a twisted, bow-legged, neck-cocked nap.
I eat an omelet and a hunk of tasteless bread and tiny plastic cups of somewhat dirty tasting coffee. All of it shocks my stomach because it is so early. I accept being slightly nauseous as part of the upheaval of time zones.
It's become Thursday while we weren't paying attentions. Dark until at 4.30am, coffee began to spice the cabin air and window shades slid up to meet a day.
All of a sudden it's 2.15 in the afternoon and my body stiffly creaks in my seat, knees stiff from a twisted, bow-legged, neck-cocked nap.
I eat an omelet and a hunk of tasteless bread and tiny plastic cups of somewhat dirty tasting coffee. All of it shocks my stomach because it is so early. I accept being slightly nauseous as part of the upheaval of time zones.
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