Sleep-deprived, I got to the tiny Bromma airport at 7 this morning (a little Stockholm airport for short-distance flights), then learned my flight was delayed 2 hours. Two hours I could have been sleeping, if only there were prescient people who could warn us when a plane is about to go on the fritz. Such is life. I played some chess, read a little, and tried to knock things over in the terminal with my mind.

Finally we were allowed to board the plane. I fastened my seatbelt, closed my eyes, and sat there, tired and grouchy. Then I heard the sound of the propellers revving up. From that point on, I was completely happy.

I love airplanes.

I never tire of this view. (I’m referring to the clouds,
But isn’t it weird that my phone
could see the propeller’s blades spinning?)