“Don’t Look Now” watercolor & charcoal © 2011 Jean Burman
Up here time is suspended. Or at least… there is no sense of it. For the next 2 and a half hours we are all captive here… at the mercy of the odds [and the pilots seated up front in the cockpit]
The woman in the checked coat sits diagonally in front of me reading a book on her ipad. I know she’s American because I heard her speak just before.
I can’t see what she’s reading… but it reminds me that the man sitting diagonally behind me can probably read over my shoulder what I’m writing about here as well… so I make the font size smaller.
Not that it matters [at all].
I tend to write for a broad audience.
And whether that audience is seated behind me on an aeroplane or on the other side of the world is neither noteworthy nor consequential… except perhaps if am writing about them and they don’t know that I am [grin]
Or do they?
I glance furtively down the aisle but the person seated behind me seems intently absorbed with his Amazon Kindle… his nose three inches from the screen.
The gentleman beside me is snoring. Ye gods *sigh* I check the emergency exits… but alas there’s simply no escape at 26,000 feet. Sadly. (((chuckles)))
It’s a microcosm of life up here. People from all walks of life. From every country in the world. Each with his or her own story.
We are all just travellers here.
Two girls are chatting over by the far window in Russian… as the man next to me wakes himself up with a snort. He speaks to his travelling companion in a thick German accent and then opens the newspaper wide. His arm [and the newsprint] are now just inches from my face.
It’s a bit impolite… but I don’t say anything.
Resting my head back onto the headrest and edging my elbow over just slightly to retrieve one small square inch of my rightful armrest… I gently remind myself that the laws of the jungle are harsh and survival is a matter of putting yourself ever so slightly first [grin]
Yay… it works!
He gives over a little of the armrest… and in moving his arm to turn the page… unwittingly gives me back some of my airspace. I’m pleased actually… because I’d finished reading that page anyway and I am kind of looking forward to seeing what’s on page 5 (((chuckles)))
Life is extraordinary isn’t it? We take so much for granted.
Looking around… the fact that we are hurtling through 26,000 feet at 500 odd nautical miles per hour in a pressurised aluminium tube doesn’t seem to be phasing any of us!
We are all just travellers here… and yet we have [this much] in common.
Later that day [walking down busy George Street in the middle of Sydney] I pass the woman in the checked coat who had earlier sat diagonally in front of me on the plane. In a city of approximately 4.5 million people what are the chances of that?
We see each other and smile… [two people who shared the same airspace for just a little while *wink*] then pass by without uttering a word!
It’s a very small world we live in.
What we do to each other matters.
Who we are to each other… ourselves… and the world at large… makes a very big difference.
Nothing is by chance.
There is meaning in every encounter!
While in Sydney I went to see Riverdance for the 3rd time. I saw it years ago in London… and then in Brisbane a few years later… and now finally here in Sydney. It was the Farewell Tour for the troupe… which marks the end of an era for me. But eras end like everything else… and it really was about time!
On Sunday I went to see the Annie Leibovitz exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art.
I enjoyed it… but I would have liked it better if the cloak room police hadn’t insisted I hand over my favorite umbrella which apparently presented a potential security threat to the artwork… perchance I attempted to poke prod or otherwise interfere with or destroy the artwork in question. [I know it's an incredibly small thing... but I honestly couldn't see the "point"... if you'll pardon the pun!]
As if I would do that!
I’m an artist for heaven’s sake. I love beautiful things. And I wouldn’t hurt a fly [or an artwork] with an umbrella or anything else.
But “we are livvvving in academia world… and I am a philistine girl” [and I'm sure Madonna would agree]
Those are the rules we must live by!
[Silly as most of them seem[
I eventually got my umbrella back by the way... it had been labelled and stacked out the back with 4,385 other umbrellas in an orderly pile which took the attendants forever to sort. I'm just glad mine had "distinguishing" frills when I went to retrieve it. Do you know how many black umbrellas there are in Sydney? 4,385 precisely! I hear that the queue is still long and the search is ongoing (((chuckles)))
What serendipitous encounters have you had lately?
Any strange coincidences involving random strangers?
Retiring irish dancers?
The odd rogue umbrella wielding psychopath?
Or anything else untoward?
Report it HERE!
[it will make me feel less alone] grin.
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Artwork & Images © 2010 Jean Burman
Artwork & Images © 2010 Jean Burman
