Flying almost makes me believe in God. Not because of heaven or hell but because there is nothing so like purgatory as flying. Of course those in purgatory can only go on to heaven. Flying is a bit more of a gamble.
In the morning you are in one place, leading one life, and in the evening you are somewhere else, leading another life. Because flying takes the miles you’ve crossed seem like nothing, just an uncomfortable nap, the life you’ve discarded, the friends, family, lovers you’ve left, linger, as though any minute they will pop back up yelling SURPRISE! It was all a joke. You never left at all.
And you’d believe them because the present, where you’ve landed, seems like a dream; too little happened in too short a time for your life to have been so altered. Soon you will wake up and find you never left the past at all – which of course makes realising you have even more difficult.
The worst part is that flying makes leaving seem so easy. But somehow going back is always just as hard.