the idea of travel as liberation surely has drawn its last sweaty breath. the idea that there is something self improving and life affirming and educational and great about travel. You’re meant to get away from the alienated environment you are trapped in and find somewhere or something ‘real’. now to travel you have to go even further into the belly of the beast of unreality that is the modern industrial world that even your normal life might take you. you have to pass through the iron gates and the great empty spaces of modernity. the eternal polished floors and the blank faces of the airports.
i passed through this world last week. booked flights. booked parking at Liverpool John Lennon Airport. parked up and went through the motions that are so familiar to so many of us. worked my way through the mundaneness of it all. made it onto the damn flight. then we take of. i try my hardest to grasp just how wondrous the experience of flying is, trying to look at the window and marvel at everything out there, but the environment of the whole thing, from the airport to the plane every step of the way, is just so boring, mundane and alienated that by the time i get there my ability to feel wonder has been mauled.
dead, gone, over and finished. i try to muster some wonder at the clearly wondrous sight of the sun over the clouds. but i can’t.