суббота, 4 июня 2011 г.

Tiny planes

My mother lives in the country right next to the airport so every Sunday I watch the sky with an ornament of white plane traces high above, and tiny planes look like they're made of glass, I even could count them but for some reason I never do.

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There’s a plane leaving for anywhere you want right now, and in an hour, and in a day, and in a year. You can get out whenever you want, it’s comforting I think. 

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Planes via Sasha Hell

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