It always happens, even if I don’t want to. As soon as I reach the airport, as soon as the plane take off and I am miles and hours away from my destination – my mind automatically switches to this different mode, without even asking me to approve it. A mode of blissful calm (yes, however unlikely those who know me might consider that), and a very special focus on observation – something I can not always afford in my busy life in mad but wonderful London. So here I am, again (sometimes I feel like I live on a plane, and I spend more time flying than in my own bed). Seated next to the window (which -forgive the digression- indicates massive progress, I will explain this in a minute), on big, shiny airbus, operated by one of the biggest and most problematic airlines. But I kind of like them, I guess I like the challenge 😉 Progress I mentioned above means that I have slowly started breaking my little silly habits, which ‘make me feel secure’, for example always sitting in the corridor when flying. I used to explain this ridiculous custom by the fact, that it is easier to escape when you are not blocked from the corridor by another passenger next to you. I guess it wouldn’t really make that much difference, and in fact it is probably nicer to lean your head against the wall and stare through the window during ten hours long flight. I did manage to overcome it to such extreme, that now I have a big size guy with equally big size baby next to me, and it doesn’t make me feel any more insecure. Speaking about silly habits – I have also managed to ignore my persistence about always walking on the left hand side of another person. I can now walk on the left, on the right, or even before or after, that doesn’t make much difference any more. I am quite proud of all these small improvements, because to me they mean that I am open and willing to learn, something which – I am sad to say – people rather tend to loose with age. So this is my mental anti ageing treatment, and it’s doing quite well. Now leaving all these off-point stories and digression, I wanted to explain my ‘observational mode I have just started experiencing, about -according to the on-board monitor – just a bit less than the original 8023 kilometres spreading between Madrid and Bogota. So I was thinking about the plane I am on. It it massive, and stable, very powerful and therefore prepared to the task it is meant for, which is crossing the ocean. (funny enough- we have just left the land and as usually entering the ocean area makes the plane well shaky, completely contradicting what I have just said. But it was just a moment of weakness, and it’s again displaying the impressive stability and ‘appropriateness’). Why do I speak about it? I do, because it made me think about the nature of my work. About all the effort I always try to put in what I do. About trying to be consequent and stable with what I want, and do not despair having one ‘shaky’ moment when I look to myself like my own caricature. I wouldn’t be human if I hadn’t have that. But I guess you can’t really cross the ocean on a glider. It is fun and it’s not any worse than a monster I am sitting on now, but it serves another purpose. Funny enough yesterday I was speaking with a friend about human relations, teacher, parents, friends, etc, and compared them to toiletries. The products we use to clean our bodies: the best shampoo wouldn’t necessarily by the ideal toothpaste. Similarly, the best teacher wouldn’t necessarily be your best friend, and so on and so forth. Same with planes, same with life decisions. So I also like to take some things easy, if this is what is required, but when I do something – I want to do it the best I can. This pursue of perfection might destroy me one day, but for now I think I still know when to stop. A handsome air steward is offering my tomato juice. That’s probably a good moment to stop writing. (would the juice taste equally goo if he was ugly? Would I even acknowledge this if it was served by an old fat lady? Aghh…) And the people on the plane -who are they? Why are they travelling? What are their stories? Looking at passengers always reminds me of Wim Wenders’ ‘Wings of desire’, and the scene in a tram and then in a library, where Bruno Ganz with massive wings (which I unsuccessfully have been trying to reproduce for years now) reads people’s mind, hears their monologs they have with themselves, analysing their problems, remembering unpaid bills and other trivial details of everyday life. I love this scene. I wish I had this skill now (and the wings, of course. I WILL make them one day, that’s promised) and understand why the oversized baby next to me is so agitated, and -honestly speaking -annoying. Why the father say no word apart from ‘quiet’ and let the boy throw all the food all around, half of which lands on my jeans. (if the text stops suddenly with no sense, it means I was pacified by him, as he keeps lurking behind my arm, trying to decipher my writing). If I w sitting by the corridor I could run now… (the plane shakes again…) Now, several heavy turbulences later, I am sipping tinto on the sofa, indulging myself into conversation and slowly slipping away into Morpheus arms, two nights without sleep, I’ll just confirm to myself how happy I am. It’s my seven’t time in South America, second time this year, and I will becoming back. I am really happy doing things I really love. Good night.

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