A sea of mountains extend out my window seat, stage right. There’s a forest fire burning down there causing hazy strips of smoke extending southeast into the pacific which is now coming into view. The sun, just beyond the wing is reflection magically, creating a natural gradient of beiges and peaches. Designers everywhere are jealous.

The plane makes a course adjustment and the sun now bathes me directly. It’s the only thing. It’s everything. I crave it so much. It’s warmth. It’s life. I want to live with my shirt off.

We are now entirely over Pacific just north of San Francisco. The vastness is amazing and very foreign to me. I grew up in the Rockies and that much flat expanse is mind boggling. So it’s thousands of miles until there’s more land? I don’t get it.

We’ll be landing soon. The fun about landing at SFO is that you for the entire approach think you’re going to splash into the bay. Jokes aside that would suck. But it’s a simple enjoyment that distracts any willing participant away from the reality of Babylon.

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