airplanes to amman

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airplanes are kind of incredible, when I stop to think — actually think — about it. this revelation may be somewhat prompted by the fact that I spent all five hours of my london to amman flight sprawled blissfully across the three empty seats in my row, (finally) reading Outlander, and the mental shift to the 1700s is making me appreciate modern comforts quite a bit more.

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(the three empty seats didn’t hurt either, to be sure.)

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when I arrive in amman, past midnight and hungry, it feels a bit like I’ve Apparated here — a weird dizziness, like the flight crew actually squished time like silly putty, popped and re-formed it into something/somewhere where the sun bleaches everything white and the air is thick with dust and curls of cigarette smoke and it smells not quite like india but not quite unlike it either.

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amman so far is gradients of sandstone and hummus — like everything is the color of roasted chickpeas & chipped bricks & warm pita bread — the cobblestone sidewalks to the dusty sunset & moonrise to the way the calls to prayer around the city all blend into a single unearthly hum of sumac-scented chanting in the predawn of 4 am.

to be honest, I haven’t been here long enough to draw any kinds of conclusions about anything. not that this reality will change dramatically by the time I leave here on monday, but I will leave you with this photograph of an incredible mural anyway.

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