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I am sealed in this capsule

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  I am sealed in this capsule The transition from the static concrete of that waiting room to the pressurised cabin of this jetliner changes the entire physics of my wait. I’m no longer pacing floors or slouching into plastic seats; I've been sealed inside a capsule, and soon to be hurtling through the sky toward China. Now that I'm finally buckled in, my restlessness hasn't disappeared, but at least I’ll soon gain altitude. I look around and can see exactly how this emotional shift plays out in other lives. There is an initial sense of order and quiet relief. I see the neat rows of seats, the soft symmetry of the aisle, and the steady, reassuring presence of the flight attendant, offering the illusion of control. The ceiling washes into soft, atmospheric blues and teals. I imagine the sky outside. I can feel the collective breath of a hundred passengers all transitioning into the same forced pause. For a moment, my world feels structured, clean, and neatly aligned. I know ...
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Darwin Streets on a motorcycle: Sprigg

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The starting point






This is the starting point.
However, my starting points are flexible and never reliable.
For this reason I have started in the middle.
Although a street has a starting and finishing point, the stories of in-between are what I am interested in.

There is nothing ordinary in ordinary.
You don't have to be a christian to be a christian.
You don't have to be an American to feel powerful.
You don't have to ride a motorcycle to feel the road.

The problem is, there is too much road.


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