Sleeping bagels tucked into brown paper beds and free Boston Globes and Wall Street Journals greeted us. I chose Globe with its smoky volcanic Icelandic ash smothering Europe, halting air travel. We shuttled smug between Boston and La Guardia, soared through thick six a.m., proud no particles grounded us.
Reading the Paper at 16,000 Feet
by Cynthia Bargar
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Loss and Being Lost
by Simeon Hunter
Airports are a special kind of space. Architecturally they may be, like churches and fire stations, iconoclastic, singular, without reference to their context. Which is good because a context is one of the things that th...
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