Airports are big-city-rushing, anonymous, hidden, blasting something unfamiliar, moving fast down horizontal elevators, conveyor belts pushing people along.  Trains are slow-easy, leaning against the glass waiting for the whistle to blow; old-school reminiscent of times past, watching the world in shades of green.

In the plane outside the window, the long angle of the wing, puffy clouds, dotted houses down below, someone else’s life.