An expressway of dots line up in the wide open night sky, ready in synchronized formation to meet at the city’s edge. Rush hour in the sky is right after the obnoxious sunset, the dusty evening is perfect to receive the long line of visitors.
The coordination between the diversity of the departing countries and the singular destination at the airstrip is impressive. Although the planes populated with people originate from all round curves of the globe, they arrive in straight lines, evenly spaced like a Morse code harmony, the dots could be a ruler in the sky with the dashes being measured in inches. A plane approaching from another direction gracefully inserts into the pattern, somehow never throwing off the slow beat of the dots.
All night long with parade of similar and seemingly singular dots continue to line up, never growing tired of the cue, relentless in their travels. Their silent approach is startling, considering the size and ferocity of the mechanical beasts.
The well orchestrated and minimalistic plan gives a straight dimension to the sky, one that I am not accustomed to seeing. Their pattern does not mimic the lost stars, it has replaced the once upon a time complicated night sky. I am not confused, just baffled.