1. as the plane goes up, higher and higher, and as the city falls back below, further and further, I see the purple color the eyes, flowers bursting on bare branches become a deep color of longing, a strange place has becomes home. The color in warmer climate is more intense. I still remember, and love the whiteness of peach blossoms, the yellow of daffodils, the pink of magnolia shaking off the cold of winter in the North...of Poland, and Massachusetts, but LA is different. I still feel the amazement from the first time waking up into a sky of purple, streets of purple, lawns of purple, little flowers lining the road of poor and rich neighborhoods alike. For once LA is not divided into zones that cut into your heart when you move from million dollars homes to skid row and back. The purple soothe the border between those who have too much and those who have a bit less than nothing. 3 purple seasons, and I still have not stopped wondering...surprised every time I suddenly realize that what they say about California having only one season of sunshine is a lie. There is rain, and cold, and the most purple spring that comes back every year to remind us about beauty and love and loss and longing...
2. the perfect circle of rainbow appears out of nowhere. Looking out of the window I suddenly realize I no longer remember how clouds are formed, how rainbows are made, knowledge and dreams have gotten lost in time. As we glide through mountains of puffy white air, a tiny shadow of a plane seems to fly next to me, surrounded by a perfect circle of rainbow, sometimes intensely colorful, othertimes a mere imagination of eyes half asleep. And I feel like I have not seen clouds in such a long time, not the type of smoggy overcast that covers up the sun, but big, white boulders of cloud drifting on the sky that make you think about rain and thunder storms and rays of light piercing through after a shower to light up freshly washed trees...and a rainbow, not a perfect cirle, but the shape of an arch, leading children and care bears into their sweet, sweet dreamland.
3. 24 hours before setting my feet on the plane you gave me the reason to be eager to fly yet again over an empty landscape of sand and bald hills. 20 minutes after sitting down and fastening my seat belts on a delayed flight I was mesmerized by coutless shadows playing trick on no man's land, counting the layers of time lying bare on mountains whose only color is the color of dirt. And i discovered where the lonely roads are leading, the ones we sometimes see and wonder who they were for, where they would take us. Tiny spots of green, little pools of water surrounded by nothingness. And I wonder, how much love does it take to be together in the middle of nowhere.
