The other day we stopped by the road to watch the planes fly off and arrive. As each plane tilted up towards the sky with a force that we so seldom encounter in our ordinary daily lives, I felt a rush of... feelings. In any case, I had the impulse to record the moment. But my poor little camera was incapable of capturing the thrust of the moment. It was gone even before it had started. The moment I mean. But we watched, with our eyes, as the plane, heavy with people who're heavy with desires and secrets and regrets, took off, sliding off the runway into the chilly late-night sky. The blast of energy that lifted it dissipated almost as soon as it cleared the ground. We were left sighing at the ephemeral nature of it all. We were a little disappointed. We were left wanting more. We waited for the other planes to take off, and they did, one by one. Eventually we stopped trying to capture the moments, and instead let them become a series of cinematic, wide-screen, movie-like scenes.

Later the planes became mere lights in the sky, that gave you the illusion that they were perhaps alien flying objects. Some of the aircraft arrived and flew low, rocketing above our heads, looming eerily large and magnificent above our tiny beings. We felt so small next to them. Being next to such technology made me sad somehow. It made me realize how far we have come and how much time has elapsed since the beginning of history and how many people have died and been born. It's just sad and a little painful to think about.

After some time, not sure whether we should watch more planes arrive and take off, we left, traveling down that long stretch of the road by the runway, feeling alone in the world and not knowing why.