there she goes again
I'm about to pack up my computer. I'm defrosting the mini fridge. I'm pulling out my suitcase. I'm eating my last tins of tuna; finishing off my porridge.
It seems to me that I leave a lot.
I love leaving. I love new faces, new customs, and a new location. I love going somewhere where nobody knows me.
When the plane takes off the thrill is almost sexual. Waves of pleasure race through my body as I grasp my arm rest.
When the plane lands it's a deeper satisfaction. After being elevated into the heavens we're brought back down to reality. A sigh of relief all around. Some perform small religious rituals. The plane wheels grate against the runway; women comfort their children. People peer over other passengers to see through the window, viciously chewing gum. I can't help but grin, this is were it all begins.
Soon I'm walking down unfamiliar streets while people speak in foreign tongues. Tasting new flavors and fashions. Smiling at men with a different look to them, a different way to them, their charm seeping into my skin.
Being in an airport alone is like being in the land of opportunity. Screw America, I want everywhere else.
And so here I go again. On May 4th my body will pulsate as the plane takes off to Paris.
When I picked up my ticket the man said "Toronto to Paris, one way?"
One way.
"Yes." I replied. Oh god, yes.
It seems to me that I leave a lot.
I love leaving. I love new faces, new customs, and a new location. I love going somewhere where nobody knows me.
When the plane takes off the thrill is almost sexual. Waves of pleasure race through my body as I grasp my arm rest.
When the plane lands it's a deeper satisfaction. After being elevated into the heavens we're brought back down to reality. A sigh of relief all around. Some perform small religious rituals. The plane wheels grate against the runway; women comfort their children. People peer over other passengers to see through the window, viciously chewing gum. I can't help but grin, this is were it all begins.
Soon I'm walking down unfamiliar streets while people speak in foreign tongues. Tasting new flavors and fashions. Smiling at men with a different look to them, a different way to them, their charm seeping into my skin.
Being in an airport alone is like being in the land of opportunity. Screw America, I want everywhere else.
And so here I go again. On May 4th my body will pulsate as the plane takes off to Paris.
When I picked up my ticket the man said "Toronto to Paris, one way?"
One way.
"Yes." I replied. Oh god, yes.
posted by Gillian Young at 2:54 PM
6 Comments:
The vicarious life I'll live through you. It sounds fantastic.
lucky bastard
andrew
I do regard myself as lucky, I don't regard myself as a bastard.
I once had a ticket from Montreal to Paris until I caught myself writing to a friend "next week I have to go to Paris." As soon as my lack of enthusiasm hit the page, I knew I was headed in the wrong direction. I traded my trip for a one way ticket to the Yukon. Actually, I drove, but my point is that hearts are great leaders. I'm glad I followed mine. I'm glad you are continuing to follow yours.
Good for you, I sometimes feel generic for having dreams of Paris, because it seems so common. But whatever gets us going right?
"I love leaving. I love new faces, new customs, and a new location. I love going somewhere where nobody knows me."
So true... Isn't it so boring to spend your life looking at the same old faces? Having to put up with people who think they know you and their odd habits... Leaving is good.
Btw, I like your blog.
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