There is something extraordinary about pressing your forehead to the cool glass of an airplane window. From this vantage point, the world unfolds like a living canvas—shifting, shimmering, impossibly vast.
As the plane rises, cityscapes scatter beneath like constellations of light. Roads stretch out in quiet geometry, neighborhoods become patchwork quilts stitched with memory and movement. Then comes the wilderness—rolling landscapes, rivers curling like silver threads, forests breathing in deep unison.
Above the ocean, the world dissolves into rhythm: endless blue, waves unseen but imagined, the horizon carrying secrets of distance. And then—the clouds. Towers of white rising and falling, soft cathedrals built of vapor. At sunset, the sky becomes its own masterpiece: gold spilling into rose, rose fading into indigo.
From this height, life itself feels like an artwork in progress. Every detail below—every street, every tree, every ripple of water—exists in harmony. And we, for a brief moment, are invited to marvel.
Gratitude
For the chance to fly.
For the reminder that beauty is everywhere, seen or unseen.
For the perspective that life offers us—if we only take the time to look.
Today, I am grateful for the window seat, for wonder, and for the boundless inspiration of this world.