So yeah, I’m hanging God knows how many kilometers above the ground…
Earlier I was talking to someone about being scared to fly, about maybe crashing, and here I am, up there, eating a delicious sandwich with Multifruit juice, listening to Samsara Blues Experiment.
The irony did not escape me, and I found the situation to be quite hilarious.
This is the smallest plain I’ve been in so far, and it was a little scary. I thought that propellers were only for WWII planes.
So here we are, high up in the skies, wondering how we’ll get down, alive or not.
Although this is safer and faster and all that, it still feels more scary to me.
Even after I’ve been explained multiple times how the physics make it work, I still just can’t grasp how this massive thing goes up, I don’t get it.
The view from upstairs on bangalore at night was mindblowingly awesome. One of the most breathtaking spectacles I’ve seen.
The city is massive and it was like an ungraspable light show. However, it was real life, organized streets and city blocks.
I felt so small and insignificant seeing this endless horizon of street, car and house lights, this demonstration of human life growing in an unstoppable way. The smallness of it, and the greatness.
The insignificance of it, yet the pride.
This ridiculous life is quite amazing. Hanging a few thousand meters up in the sky, getting Rollercoastered by turbulence, touching a square box that works on electricity and lights up, to form some words of language, as if I or whatever that is, is talking to someone.
I love this joke and do not understand why so many people take it so seriously.
Time to land and see if we make it. I’m quite scared.