Monday, November 06, 2006

Sky Over Cinci

Remind me never to take a flight at night without asking for a window-seat.

I have yet to see anything that compares to the sudden rise of lights in the darkness, gold and blue and pulsing like a thing alive. The network of connections shimmer in a way that a stationary glow shouldn't, couldn't possibly. Others haze on the horizon like dawn. You could believe life started like this, a fractal web breaking the shadows. When conditions are just right - dark enough to hide any hint of the terrain; clear enough that you can see; and isolated enough that the lights are pinpoints rather than a sea - it's impossible to tell up from down as mundane lights and stars blend together.

(For those blinking: I just got back from a trip out of town. I'm okay now, really. ;-))

1 comment:

Amy Roark-Oblak said...

Nice writing, Lindsey.

I know the description. And flying out of Dayton on Sunday, pre-dawn, the tiny lights of the city, glowing like fireflies beneath me, didn't give me nearly the same sensation as I've had coming into or leaving other cities, like Cincinnati, New York or Chicago. On a clear enough night/morning it is truly surreal.

Thanks for the post.