Last night, I sat on a taxi that smelled like the inside of an aeroplane. You know particularly the scent when meal time is close to being served in the sky? The familiarity of it was nostalgic, and somewhat bittersweet. When I think of air travel, I used to associate it with happiness ( plane food isn't often very yummy, but it is still very yummy to me ), anticipation and freedom.
I now have mixed feelings of it, inevitably.
Still, I look forward to the 28th, and foggy dalatian atmosphere in October with M. With a little prayer and expectation, I will travel safe.
You certainly will. <3
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