ж³ - Poems

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_EMA Flight, Nottingham-Paris_

[April 2007]. A cette altitude et à cette vitesse, quand on traverse la Manche et que le ciel est dégagé, les vagues sont immobiles. A l'approche de la côte, leurs crêtes blanches sont figées. La mer ne bouge pas. Puis se dressent les falaises et s'étendent les collines. Puis viennent les éoliennes. Figées elles aussi. Et ce paradoxe : qui peut dire si là-en bas les éoliennes sont en mouvement ou bien si elles ne le sont pas ?

I could never share this observation with my flight mates, trapped in the aporia. They were too busy with their tea or coffee cups, cans, sandwiches and sandwich plastic bags, coins. Very noisy! Thinking of those I was leaving behind, I carried on watching, my eyes soon full of tears and stealthy images. The smile of my sister in a pub. Coffee and peas, fish and chips. Crowded street and road. Here comes the airport-shuttle. Bye! Take care!

Take off. One-hour-twenty-minute-flight. "Tea or coffee?". The children have grown up. "Any other beverage or snack?... Candies ?". At these altitude and speed across the English Channel they are immobile, rigid waves and sea. Look! Does anybody care? Ping ! We are landing. Relief? Here comes Paris. Surely swarming. Ad infinitum grey.

Osvflyd Green -x- 2009 - Nouvelles de villes