Oct 29, 2001
Lewk Up, Lewk Up
We look at the sky differently, now. Have you noticed? Up is no longer just clouds and stuff. Up is where aeroplanes cruise past.
Look, a plane. Did you see that? Didn’t you think it was quite low? Are you sure planes on the approach to Heathrow over the city usually go that low?
It’s so big. So loud. So close. Are you sure they usually fly that low?
Yes, they always have done. Same as ever, just flying over. Calm down.
Now up isn’t just where rain comes from, more than just the domain of pigeons and a distant roar of jet engines.
Up is a new dimension we notice now, since September 11. Up is a whole new space, populated by people in transit, winging their way horrified toward tall buildings or expectant toward safe airport havens. That distant, vague roar has become deafening.
Whenever a plane passes overhead, handfuls of people stop and glance up, distracted momentarily, subconsciously recognising and counting the bodies hurtling through the air, the potential of twisted metal and burning fuel, seeing the aeroplane for more than a vague transport device, thinking the unthinkable.
Strange how the little things have changed.
