Ice forms on paper wings as we rise across the land. It’s a plane made of folded news, of forked tongues, and of opinions which carry no weight beyond ink. Stretched below, a plain spreads out like a rumour, and from this altitude the fighting simultaneously feels both closer and further away. One thing, though: apart from ridges and rivers, there are no borders here, and if the Earth answers to any names, it’s keeping them to itself. Remember: emergencies are located in front, behind, and to the left and right. In the event, keep calm. The in-flight movie will be the rising Sun, and the flight attendant will offer comfort on a neat tray. Look at the ice and how it glitters. Look at all those people, shielding their eyes as they look back and wave.
Oz Hardwick
Picture Nick Victor
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