I wake early on normal days, even more so since the Asia trip. Trying to catch up with the other side of the world, giving up sleep for quiet time, plunging into a new morning that vanishes like a puddle on a hot sidewalk.
Time and place. In a long-distance flight they come together. Not in an elegant, theory-of-relativity way, but in a stuffy, jarring jumble of humanity; torn wrappers and crushed water bottles; headphones and paper slippers.
Here we are, defying time and gravity, and all we can think about are what movies are being offered and whether we'll be seated next to a crying baby.
There's a message here somewhere; I'm sure of it.