I don’t usually enjoy plane rides but today was serendipitous.
We took off after a minor delay in the airplane. The usual stuff such as late passengers, slow border control officers and extra luggage being transported into the aircraft.
On a Sunday in Paris, is like no other. Only the centre of Paris turns grey and everything animated became lifeless. The usual throng of ‘can’t-get-enough-of-Chanel’ shoppers were missing and there were hardly any automobiles and bicycles on the streets. From skies to buildings, everything was a dull shade of grey. The epitome of a ghost town.
Immediately after taking off, I could spot patches of green and brown. All of them irregularly shaped. Still don’t know what the use of it is now. Everything just seems so much nicer from the height of the clouds.
As the plane spearheaded into the clouds, it felt like one would be in heaven as the view through all the windows are the same: white gigantic cotton balls.
Normally I would hate flights due to turbulence. That recent flight had no turbulence but that wasn’t the reason why I loved it. I loved it because for a good fourth minutes, the plane looked like it was hovering above cotton fields under brilliant blue skies. And the sun. It imposed its rays on everything between itself and the clouds. I swear, it felt like being suntanned on a beach with yourself lying on densely packed cotton balls instead of sand.
It was just a beautiful moment. That was my favourite flight so far.