One of my last memories from MFF involved going to the top level of the parking garage to try to get some video of the aircraft flying overhead. A plane had just flown overhead and I when looked in the direction it had come from I saw a train of lights stretching towards the horizon, but they didn't seem to be moving.

I've seen this before, I knew better, but still for a moment I couldn't believe those were the planes in the landing pattern. I mean, airliners move fast. That's their reason for existing. Even when on final approach they're still moving well over 100 mph. But at that moment they seemed frozen in the night sky. And also impossibly close together.

I wanted to tell this story as a thinly veiled metaphor for the way that perspective changes everything. From my perspective I couldn't see them moving much at all until they got closer. But I realized that there was another one hidden in that concept. The reason I couldn't see much motion is that they were mostly heading straight towards me.

There's something else in that. In the idea of seeing a thing on the horizon, and although it's coming straight towards you you can't see it move because it's coming at you.

But then again I'm trying to make something happen that seems impossibly distant. No, no stories about that yet, I'm not superstitious by nature but I still don't want to jinx it.