<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=496503" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Travelling</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">a travel is a metaphor of a journey<br>and a journey is always <br>what life is all about</div><div style="margin:10px 0">arrivals and departures and i see it well<br>at airports<br>and well, so well, at pre-departures</div><div style="margin:10px 0">then we move inside the plane and<br>the doors close and we are lifted to the skies</div><div style="margin:10px 0">for hours you are beside the clouds<br>but you never have the courage to open the window<br>and touch each fine cotton beside you</div><div style="margin:10px 0">crazy but sometimes i think that way<br>opening closed windows and think not of the<br>prohibitions and the consequencies, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">there is so much silence up there and it is the mind<br>that does much of the talking and you listen<br>always for the reminders of the stewardess<br>and the captain telling you that </div><div style="margin:10px 0">we are 30,000 feet above sea level and out there<br>you see Panay Island<br>we will be flying for one hour and a half<br>it is a fine day</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and then the seat belt sign is on for the<br>turbulence but you do not mind </div><div style="margin:10px 0">you look forward to an arrival and the another<br>opening of a door to a destination</div><div style="margin:10px 0">touchdown, the plane lands perfectly as always<br>no plane crash, no headlines for the daily news</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but i do not really think about these matters anymore<br>i am thinking of the silence. I am thinking about the mind that <br>keeps on talking. Data. Ideas. Sad memories. <br>Dead parents. Sick sibling. Flowers. Trees. <br>The sun brightly shining behind a <br>Thick Cumulus cloud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the stewardess announces an arrival, fifteen minutes<br>earlier than scheduled. Fast plane. My thoughts unconsumed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we step down. we take our bags. this journey never stops.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=496503" data-title="Travelling de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="a travel is a metaphor of a journey and a journey is always what life is all about arrivals and departures and i see it well at airports and well, so well, at pre-departures then we move inside the plane and the doors close and we are lifted to..."></div> </div> </div>

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