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Personal Project: Major Turning Point

It would have been past seven, at around twenty-five thousand feet. The web of orange and black beneath, were illuminated at it’s greatest for the best part of two hours. I were not alone, though i were sat in the single aisle of the tiniest plane i could ever imagine myself to be sat in. Because, after all, flying for me were never a delight, and so putting myself in this minute aluminium-can, with only one cabin-crew member, was not my first choice of travelling methods. The travelling part on the other hand were. But this were not about the travel or the destination or the immersing of oneself into a new culture, this was about a newly found confidence, from the beauty which lay beneath the stratosphere. 

There i sat, alone in the single aisle. Sir-cabin-crew had handed me that buttered pretzel-roll and glass of whatever sparkling beverage i ordered, because that’s all i can remember of it. I took my magazine and Moleskine- as ever pretentious as one can look on a plane, it is with a high-fashion magazine and Moleskine. Whether i believed i would be writing something somewhat profound, or to become of those evenings where i illustrated or constructed stories, i don’t quite know, nevertheless, they became useless to me. Instead, i handled the take-off with the upmost confidence, despite us leaving from the city-airport, where quite literally, the tiny plane takes off from inside the financial district of London, grazing the sides of big-city banks and insurance companies. But within the hour, once descended above Europe, all one can look at, is the motorways and blocks of houses which differ over Europe and most imprinted in my mind, Luxembourg. 

I forgot that i were with other people; though i distinctly remember they too, forgot about me as they played on the cabin-iPad. I starred out of my window, most probably wrote nothing in the Moleskine and instead, looked forth into the future i could possess. To travel these distances in Europe alone, on business most likely, without the fear of loneliness or airplane-fear, something i had become acquired to, despite years of plane travel. 

It were there where i assumed a future filled with greatness, not because i possessed a great career so suddenly, but for once, i felt whole and secure and content and it were almost magical. And yet maybe it’s just because i needed a break from stress. Maybe it were because in fact i were not alone, though, for the first time in my then twenty-years, it were the first time i had sat somewhat unchaperoned on a plane. Maybe it were due to the sky’s afterglow or mystical remnants of protostars. Maybe it were my imagination, cultivated by Sally Albright, Carrie Bradshaw and Annie Hall, all enveloped in my experience and becoming of a well-rounded human-being. Were i becoming something of a more confident, prosperous person who had grown within two-hours of flight time? Most possibly.

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