Tuesday, January 20, 2015

The Window Seat

     I always choose a window seat.  Could their be a difference between people who choose aisle seats and those that choose window seats?  I'm curious what it might be.  I took the photo above on a foggy morning flight from Walla Walla to Seattle.  We flew low and I could spot lights, the curve of the Yakima River, but mostly fog.  The photo taken coming into Seattle reminded me of old World War II movies when the propellors and their noise preceded battle scenes.  Flying seems to start story lines for me.  The landscapes, the overheard conversations and the odd mix of passengers. Could this be the difference? Window seaters are writers, romantics or artists.        

     This is a test.  If you were sitting in the aisle seat and missed seeing that line of the Olympics  floating above clouds with the sun rising would you have been sad?

     Test two.  Would you have been curious about whether anyone ever hiked across this wrinkled dry landscape?  Would you have been imagining explorers, mountain lions, or mines?  Of being lost.  Of the odd juxtaposition of the shadowed land and the prop.

     If you answered with "Yes's", do you choose window seats?  

     Just curious.


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