Shevek (shevek) wrote,

The sunset is a bloody stain under a yet blue western sky. Atlanta twinkles beneath, and the yellow fades into a dark black smog which hogs the eastern horizon. At night, the city is a scattering of enclaves, each a cluster of lights, with slim ribbons of freeway carrying the lifeblood through the no-man's land between.

The horizon blackens as we drop - it closes in until the world around the plane is only two miles as far as the eye can see, then one, and we could be alone, we four planes and a small circle of earth. Colours from the ground climb up to warn us. Flashes of red, green and blue peek out of the yellow glaze, each with its own tiny message of danger.

The cabin girl has her own personal message of danger for me if I don't stop writing and behave myself.


Atlanta seems quite civilized, if we forgive my nose telling me that people still smoke indoors. A system is clearly at work, and a woman in a blue nylon jacket adorned with staff passes berates me mildly for my unfamiliarity as she answers my question. I would point out to her that one should be consistent across airports, not within one, but I don't think she would understand my argument about the toilets.
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