damn lost
Flew from Boston. Four hours and fifty minutes. Young man next to me from France, didn't speak much English but wanted to talk to everyone around him. Full of energy, even to the point of pulling out all the magazines and safety instructions (in case of a plane crash) to flip through. I put on music and pulled out my black and white composition book. I wrote four songs (lyrics) and felt good about them. The plane landed, no bump at all, and the plane emptied much much faster than it had filled up.
I left my notebook in the seat pocket in 40A. Damn.
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