Sitting in the plane. The sun is shining above the clouds! My journal is a bit like twitter these days. Where am I? So so dead. The sun does me good. I wonder, if the plane explodes, will they find my little journal on my body? All destroyed?
When I was younger, the only time I believed in god, was during huge turbulence sessions. The only time I ever liked turbulence was when I was drunk. I like to imagine that I am in a train when I am in plane, and in a plane when I am in a train.
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