I recently returned by plane to visit my home region, that place deemed by geography but more by culture as the southern states. The South is ethereal. Like seeing a cloud from the window of a plane. Or better yet, another plane from the window of a plane. That other plane, it looks like it shouldn’t be. A cardboard cutout on a cardboard sky. But that other plane carries passengers, just like the one I occupy with all its passengers. Aboard paper, corrugated people fly. That other plane, it looks so far away. It is so far away. And in this plane, the passenger in front of me just decided to lean his seat back. All the way back. And this is my concern. That and if I will bother the person next to me to allow me up to visit the lavatory. That and should I take my shoes off. And out the window in that other plane this is happening too. But that plane looks far more interesting than this plane. It is far more interesting. It is the one that doesn’t look like it should be. It is the one that reminds me of my home. With all its colors and people, corrugated and of this world but maybe not in it. With all its past and all its future that sometimes looks the same.