On a fly, I just booked it. Screw it, let’s do it.
It’s now or never. It’s autumn. It’s Vermont and New Hampshire. It’s the leaves, the times of our lives.
I know those who sang “forever young” are now dead. Delusion. Self-deception.
We, human, carry a capacity to lie to ourselves. That everything is gonna be OK. That the end comes, certainly, but always for others, not us.
Wait for the booster shot. Wait for better travel condition. Wait for airline promotion. Wait, wait, wait.
It’s now or never. Elvis lives on. Artists live on. But only in our hearts and memories.
New ones come along. New opportunities, but mostly, for others.
I don’t have the luxury. I call a spade a spade. No distortion. No deception.
I have grown older. I have seen people and myself fade. New actors on the scene. Old scripts.
Even the virus got its new variant. Delta variant.
Dressed to kill. And to a wider implication, dressed to scare. The pandemic panic.
We’re all scared: sipping water in between masked/unmasked on airplane.
Air travel has never been like this. But I am grateful that I do it at all since Feb of 2020.
Stuck at home. Inside the four walls. Imagination runs wild. But my body, which houses the brain, where imagination originates, stays in place. Stuck.
Software vs hardware. Brain vs body. Virtual vs real.
Now all I want is to feel the rustling of the wind, the falling of the leaves and myself inside those Vermont pictures, no photoshops.
Instant gratification without instagram.
To reclaim what is ours for ourselves. Not for Mark, for facebook, for others.
Us. Out there. Nature. Where we belong. Where we once were familiar with. Where it stings, it is cold, hot and lukewarm. But it’s real. It’s ours, not copyrighted by youtube, facebook, google and/or Apple.
Between tech and virus. Isn’t it time for us to grab an opportunity to step on the falling leaves, to feel the rustle of the Northeast wind and to see some smiling faces that have since carried worrying wrinkles and saddened eyes. It’s time to feel, once again, like human that we are, or to be more truthful, once were.
Thang Nguyen 555 