Its a busy day in the sky. The contrails tell stories, tales of adventure. As I gazed at the trails of cloud through my lense, I wondered where all those planes are headed, where all the people are traveling. Maybe they’re headed home for the weekend or on the way to spend Christmas with family.
I lay (its Christmas break and I refuse to even consider what the correct form of lie is in the context) on the pavement, still wet with rain, capturing this moment of watching airplanes fly across the sky, headed who-knows-where, into the abyss of blue.