Being on an airplane for this amount of time provides the mind with a lot of free time to fill with anxiety. Not about an accidental crash and no survivors, no that wouldn't be so bad, but about how in heavens name does one greet their father when not a single word have been exchanged for years. The only contact we've had has been through letters, father loves anything on paper. And photography of course, which he manages to make a living out of ( he's shooting for fashion magazines although the models aren't wearing anything at all except skin over their bones)
He picked me up, the sun forced my eyes to look like two slim lines and I just couldn't bare myself to hug him. But he hugged me.
Smoking I see, what does your mother think of that he asked and lights one of his own.
And there, in his old black car with rolled down ceiling we bond in some matter. We connect. And the few hours I've spent in LA hasn't been so bad yet, Echo park is quite lovely come to think of it. It beats London anyway. Weather or not that is due to boredom I don't know.
And I can't wait to se Miri