No matter where you live, who you are, you always look up at the sky when a plane passes by. It’s an instinctive attraction. The moment one hears the sound of a plane, the head turns automatically.
But there is more logic to this primal attraction for flight.
Since we don’t have wings, we can go only where the land takes us. This limits our movement to an effectively two-dimensional surface ie. you can go north, south, east and west on a map.. but you can’t go up without climbing something.
So you see, we’re free to move anywhere on the land but there’s a huge upward ceiling to that freedom called the sky. It is like we’re trapped in this box. And any trapped animal craves solely to climb out of the trap. This primal instinct is responsible for our attraction towards flight.
What flying means to me?
To me, it is the ultimate freedom. If I had wings, I could soar above the clouds to avoid the shitty weather down below. I could get to mountain peaks with half the effort I have to put in when I hike. And besides all that, the ethereal views I could see, the silence I could treat my ears to – being in the sky is like nirvana. And it is my ultimate ambition to fly – with wings or in a plane, I don’t care which – I just want to feel the wind.