I’ve noticed the last couple of evenings that the planes
flying low out of East Midlands airport sound louder
than usual. That’s odd because the low cloud has been obscuring them from view.
You’d think they’d be quieter when there’s a big load of water vapour in the
way, wouldn’t you?
Maybe I’m just noticing planes more these days, which is
something else that’s odd. I sit here in the middle of Avalon, relishing the
silence, and then the roar of a Boeing something-or-other passes unseen
overhead. Any other noise disturbing the peace would irritate me. But not the
planes. I feel torn; half of me wants to be subsumed into the essence of
nature, while the other half wants to spread its physical wings and fly away. I
don’t yet see a compromise.
And while I’m contemplating far-flung places, the following
track reminds me so much of a beautiful woman in Pennsylvania,
a woman I once heard sing. I’ll be going to bed soon.
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