John Malkovich a-top skinny legs.

canalside

So we left you reading L’Equipe at the airport…

Yes, but by now I would be on the plane.

Of course.

But I only just made it.

How come? I thought you would have arrived really early to avoid all things Italian.

Not ALL things Italian, just the crazy taxi ride to the airport…. But as I walked to the airplane I would have looked up.

Did you?

I did!

What did you see?

A blue, southern French spring sky; a soft breeze that I couldn’t see but in which I would throw my head slightly back and sigh and a not so distant sea that I would start to imagine being next to rather than the John-Malcovich-with-skinny-legs lookalike that was in seat 8F.

You were in 8D?

Yep.

Aisle?

Yep.

Like the aisle?

I do, but I like the window too, but John had it already.

What did you do first?

Opened that twiddley air vent thing and direct it toward me.

Then?

Finished the paper, read the in-flight magazine, opened my book – ‘Neverwhere’ – and read two chapters.

Then?

Wrote this.

We could put a link here.

Neverwhere?

Yep.

And have a break?

Yep.

Ok. (Editorial note t).