Sunday. Slip quietly back into the city then straight back out to JFK.
I get the seat next to the craziest person on the plane.
A tiny woman who radiates stress, screams a lot into her phone before we take off.
"just listen to me, im tellin ya you don't have a fucking ulcer"
The plane banks softly left and the city swells up beneath the wing. Incredible sea of light that stretches all the way to the enchanted blue dusk horizon.
The crazy woman is saying something trying to pull me into her madness.
We will have 7 hours together
I tell her in french that i dont speak english and pull the drawstrings to close my hood and i am gone.
