For more than its practical purpose of transportation, an airplane is the carrier of pivotal moments – starting and finishing – that immediately closes the chapter previous to wherever we have been staying. Personally, I find it funny how inexplicably smooth one year across the Pacific Ocean ends via aircraft: I am lifted from an enclosing routine in one place, only to be interrupted and dropped off into another across the globe. The coma experienced afterwards from traveling through several time zones – backwards – is physical proof of having to re-wire again in a new social system married by its people. I always think of it as being the new member lost amongst hundreds of busy ants in another colony.
Hovering over vast farmlands, familiar landmarks and circles of houses that sit, swirling around needle holes throughout the D.C. Metropolitan area, I peered through the airplane window not believing that there has been a continually functioning world on the other side of East Asia. The people whom I have interacted with in Seoul, South Korea are now characters that have to be carefully spoken of, and the places where I found refuge have now become far-away places that are left to people’s imaginations.
I am back in the States, 85 percent recovered from jet-lag, and I cannot believe that everything experienced throughout the past year has been real. I am afraid to redeem any of it, as if limiting experiences through words will damage the whole of everything. Moreover, self-articulation will be like starting over through physical therapy before the independent walk, where the last year has been indulged through sight, and less and less through words.
That said, let’s see if I can get myself up again.