It's 4.50 am and I am staring out the window of a pane. My body is screaming out to me to go to sleep and I have just about tried every position but my heart's telling me not to fall asleep. I have realised something. I could not give two shits about what part of America I'm going to, let alone any part of the world but I feel so free and wonderful - even though I'm stuck in this tiny little seat in a rickety plane, I am eager to get there. It's established that I don't sleep on planes. Like ever. Aside from the fact that I am feeling severely claustrophobic, I just keep staring out into the beautiful Los Angeles sun, everything is just as I imagined it.
This was a little excerpt from my LA journal - on the way to Lax airport at the start of this year.