atlantic airplane

DSCF0130
Originally uploaded by reallycat.

I'm just crossing a moon ray--I have a pic! airplanes do miracles nowadays. The moon is nearly full so there are millions of shades of gray and gold floating outside the airplane. I'm on top of a mountain of emptiness; and it has the same intoxicating effect as the more solid mountain, the ones full of dirt and space: it's so great to see space, and it's one paradox of enclosed metal capsules flying that they can after all make you feel spacious. Well me anyway.

I'm flying to Rome, and what a hit of saudade. I'm always amazed at the capacity of my mind to create so much energy with a mere thought.
But this thought came served by Carlo Verdone; most of you won't know him: a roman actor often playing "melancomic" characters that trade passionately on the market exchange of human failures and joys. Very italian I think; and romans of course do it louder.

[For those who care: The film was "lezzioni d'amore", nothing to e-mail home about (infatti dirrei che il sceneggiatore e' stato abbastanza pigro): in the script people we knew nothing about flapped in fountains of emotions (oh and lots of voice-off: 2nd hand emotions?!) except of course for Verdone's character: clear and likeable the moment I saw his sweet-n-bitter face. But I'm maybe the only Canadian fan of Verdone so... indulge me.]

Having space around, especially below, always impresses me. Altitude, perspective, makes me feel the fractality of life: there is no straight line, there is no simple limit. The illusion of separation can be obvious despite the intermediary composites, like on beaches: water and land mix freely and subtly and so are clearly apart and together. There is probably a name for feeling this "beach effect" in one's life, when spaces mix inside. It's fun and never boring the same way watching waves or fire is not boring when you get into it.