something visceral

I traveled by air frequently at one point. And every time I get the window seat, I still feel like a child—mesmerized by cotton candy clouds and abundant skies. I cannot tell when the sea ends and the sky starts; there is only water, and I float through a bright blue infinity. The people on the flight have their own lives, but I see a momentary heaven, a glimpse of glory when I see the light. I flew over Thiruvananthapuram on a rainy day, and I cannot begin to explain the affection I have toward this little city. I want to capture it in more than cloudy photos, so I open my book and I recall and I try to capture— I think of the way the river twists and turns, and I think of the music through my earphones, reaching my brain through waves. The world exists in patterns, in lines and strings and circles, and all that is left is for us to find where it starts and ends. Every study we do is to unwind, but what we must know is that they do not exist as straight lines. I look at the sky and th