There is a kind of magic in hopping on a plane in what feels like the middle of the night, to go to a place where you’re not required to do anything but be.
As we fly across the globe, the sunrise chases us, but never quite catches us – caught the land of the night for as long as we can fly.
The darkness of the cabin, the hum of air rushing past, people sleeping or watching screens.
There is the occasional click of a seat strap, people softly walking to the bathroom.
On one screen is Forrest Gump, another shows a Disney animated film.
There is a strangeness in escaping to the dream behind the screen, when one is already in a waking dream, travelling to a world that is a dream.