Thousands of meters above the ground, propelled at nearly a thousand kilometers per hour, you could think I am in a rocket bound for Mars. Yet I am only two miles away from home.

Here, in this plane, throughout the flight, I feel like I have been left in a neutral environment from where I can get all the perspective I need to take stock of my life.

It’s quite a strange process, it could possibly be called an extro-spection in which, differently from an introspection, it is not about pondering on your own self and about what is happening inside but, in fact, about the outside, and everything going on in this vastness, with you in the middle, floating in the air just for a few hours.

Realizing that from the sky we look so very fragile, and more abstractly, sensing the vanity of your world and of yourself, on the occasion of this interruption, forcing itself in your frantic pace and far from being trivial.

As if, much more than an airplane, this was actually a spatiotemporal capsule, not made for any time travel or even space ones, but rather for a way out of them, this time and this space, just for a moment of reflection or mere contemplation.

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