ELSEWHERE

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I soloed a few weeks ago. Now I'm practicing these things I'm learning, to understand them better, and to develop a finer hand with it all. Shall we dance, Dollface?

Throttle handle full to forward. Wide open. On the brakes, to let her reach max revs first, before we start rolling, and to listen to the engine one more time, and re-assure she's feeling fine. The airplane shivers in the vibration. She wants nothing more than to go and be gone. Off the brakes. She moves forward, slowly at first, for a second or two, but ever gathering speed. My job is just to keep her rolling straight, which I do with the rudder, with my feet, on the rudder pedals. The tail rises off the ground, improving my vision ahead, as we continue rushing forward, and it's fast becoming that it's not our movement over the ground that's what's most important, but that the runway, the ground, The Earth, are quickly becoming irrelevant as a frame of reference at all, and that all that does matter is rapidly becoming simply only the air. The intangible, the invisible, air. The atmosphere. The wind. The spirit. The Sky.

A fairie dancer, light on her feet, her wings hold the wind, and back on the stick ... we leave The Earth behind.

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