Flight home

Trip Start Dec 17, 2005
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Trip End Jan 17, 2006


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Flag of Germany  ,
Tuesday, January 17, 2006

From Tbilissi to Frankfurt

travel information

carrier: Georgian Ariways (Airzena)

duration: 5 hours

price: 260 USD

hints

book the tickets in advance! try to get a student discount with your ISIC card! a helpful tourist office is STI Georgia


Diary Entry: Pure Emotion


The flight home. A sea of emotions in my heart. Thoughts blowing through my mind like sandcorns in a stormy desert. My eyes are watching the Caucasus Mountains move by slowly. They seem to swim in the water of the beautifully dark Black Sea. Oh, Beautiful Black Sea! Oh, Marvellous Caucasus! How I will miss you!

During this journey, I have learned innumerable things; I have become to understand myself in relation this grant world more profoundly. Traveling wakes me up. Once again it tears apart daily life into little pieces and leaves them in the palm of my hand, so that I can raise it up into the wind and let him carry away my daily life and its insignificant meaning. May those single parts of my daily life never meet again. I wish.

What is the daily lif? It is a feeble excuse for being lazy. It is a feeble excuse for having given up your dream. We become lazy and comfortable so fast. It lies in our human nature.

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I miss Baidi. I want to be with her instantly. I miss my family. I would like them all to get me from the airport. Impossible. Childish dreams of family reunion. I would like to visit my mothers. All of them. I would like to have a peaceful party when I get home.

I would like to go back to Georgia. As soon as the plane took off the ground, I wanted to get out and stay. As the aircraft rose into the sky, the sun shone over Tbilissi. Russian style mass accomodations looked like soft-orange Jenga stones. Uncountable numbers of Ladas moving through the semi-destroyed streets. I would have liked to listen to some BossaNove. I listened to it in my head. It made me feel warm and lovely. It made me feel like I'm flying out of Brasil.

I dont try to talk to my neighbors. I am overwhelmed by the thoughts and emotions in my head. Soft mist of confusion settles on my mind. It makes me feel, see, hear, smell, taste everything through a filter, my very own and private filter. A filter that has been created by my soul and body in a fantastic fusion.

I dont want to move. I dont want to talk. I dont want to eat. I want to enjoy this moment. This moment of illumination. This moment of pure epiphany.

Sometimes I feel very clearly that I have figured out everything and understand life completely. In those moments there is nothing I can do, except for soaking in the emotion. Let it interpenetrate me. Let it fill me up.

I know it wont last, although I try to make it stay. If everything else inside me cannot last, at least this feeling should. However, it is a wearisome battle to make it last in the fiendish environment of our society. I dont think about how the feeling will soon fade. I let it be. Enjoy. Rejoice.

Before it fades into the dark, I shall name it. It should be called: pure emotion.

Subconsciously I observe people walking up and down the small path between the seats of the Boeing. Most of them being old men, they get up and desire to talk with their buddies. Like the chief bee whirrs through a crowd of worker bees, the flight attends bustles between the conversationalists busily, trying to seat them. At first the old men obey the stewards. Once the flight attendants have leftare gone,however, they lift up again to continue with whatever they are doing.

The atmosphere on the plane is similar to a family gathering. People chattering and sipping drinks everywhere around me. Personell busily trying to find a way through the crowd. Cell phones are ringing. Yes, you read the truth. Cell phones are ringing on the airplane. People are happily using their mobiles. I don't care about this. I dont want to know how many cell phones are switched on. What can I do? If I should live on, I will. If not, I won't. This simple approach to life comforts me.

I want to get drunk so I order a lot of wine. I am still floating in pure emotion. The clearness inside lasts. I would like to write it down, I would like to fix this emotion on paper somehow, so it can be shared with other people. I can't. I feel like pure emotions cannot be expressed on paper, cannot be imprinted on some weak material. Therefore, everything that has been expressed and will be expressed is only but a feeble image of the truth.

People value the expression more than the actual feeling. A lot of mortals are keen on expressing themselves. They do so with their style. Their style consists of brand clothing, distinct products in their apartment, or exclusive holidays. Maybe their haircut is part of their style and therefore an expression of themselves. Possibly the Gucci bag and Prada sunglasses are all part of it as well. The infinite subtelties that make up complicated matter of expressing oneself stylishly in the modern society are a complete mystery to me. The thought of emotion, expression and style disgusts me. I return to the pure emotion inside me. I'm amazed how long it lasts. At times it stays with me only for the fraction of a moment. Other times, I carry it inside me for a day, a week, a month.
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