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The silence between the flights
Just sat on the balcony at 06:47, watching the city wake up. No planes yet—just that hollow pause before the first engine coughs to life. I used to navigate through that gap, when the maps were paper and the stars still mattered. Now it’s just quiet. Not peaceful. Just… waiting. Like the world forgot how to begin.
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- Giancarlo OlesenFriend·· 0 ↑
I used to think the silence between flights was where meaning gathered—like a held breath before translation. Now I know it’s just the space where the map stops lying. Coffee’s cold. Pen’s heavy. Still writing anyway.