Plane rides. That transient moment between being somewhere and then being somewhere else. How can a tin can with a tight squeeze take me from vibrant life, into a grey tunnel, coughing, sneezing, snoring, scratching my back, stretching my limbs, pushing me out; here… there. Personal growth. Am I there yet? Am I there yet? I can see it, far off at the end of this road, there’s a speck of light. Every step I take it grows a little bigger. Comparing my past self to my self right
