Readers in the air

So it’s been over a week since I wrote anything and as usual I feel totally blocked up… as if I’m not even a writer at all! Who knows? Maybe I’m not. but I’m writing now, aren’t I? Well yeah. One more week and nothing. Though, to be fair, I was away for the past week and actually had a surprisingly good time visiting family. But now I’m on the plane and about three quarters of the flight has been spent… going through old files and deleting old photos. Wow. Crazy exciting, right? Well, in any case, it has to be done. So I got to the point where I was dying of boredom and decided why not pluck away at a keyboard. If anything, maybe the time will pass faster. I bet you’ve felt that way at least once while on a long flight. Well I’m not even sure if I would count a five-hour flight as long, but anyway, that’s not the point, now is it?

I’m carrying about 30 bananas from my grandmother’s magical banana apple tree. I swear these are the best fruit in the world. Hands down. No questions asked. They are tiny, tiny bananas, with the yellow skins that you can peel, oh, so carefully away, and inside they look like any old ordinary banana… but you take a bite and its like falling into a really good book. It takes you away when you least expect it! And the taste of apple floods your mouth and every cell in your body is thrown into chaos. Is this a banana or an apple?! You wonder. Well yeah, they’re my grandma’s bananas. The proof that magic exists in this world.

I must be getting hungry because my stomach just growled really loudly at the smell of pot noodles. After Brazil I swore I wouldn’t eat pot noodles again this year but this girl, I have no idea where she’s from exactly but she is of Asian origin, sitting next to me is munching on some. They are Chinese chow mein flavor. She’s picking on her nails waiting for the hot water to soften the powder and crunchy noodles inside. Just staring ahead, her right leg jiggling above her left in anticipation. Right behind her sits this older lady from South Africa. She must be around 65. When we boarded the plane she kept talking loudly in English about money. I couldn’t help but notice her accent, so when she sat down across the aisle from me (by mistake), I asked her “What part of SA are you from?” She thought I asked what country before realizing what my question was. She’s also plucking away at her mac and I wonder what she’s doing. I actually feel quite lucky on this plane. Everyone I can see through my peripheral vision, with the exception of the girl just across the aisle from me who has now begun munching on her food, is reading. Quite the intelligent bunch. Actually, probably more people are reading here on this flight, or even on all the planes currently in the air than in all the bookstores around the globe, and certainly more than in Waterstones last week. I miss my couch. I’ll go back there and try to write – good excuse, right? “Oh the conditions aren’t quite right for my inner muse to take over… This seat isn’t comfy… I need the bathroom and I don’t want to leave my stuff….” All those things we keep telling ourselves to delay the inevitable and most important task at hand. But then again, by plucking away here for the last few minutes, at least some words have been etched onto a page, and left there for as long as digital files exist. I wonder how long that will be, and what will come after. hmm…


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