Planes fascinate me. Their aerodynamic shapes, their fearless leap into the skies, defying their weight...always wanting to go faster, higher, further...

Is it the spirit of freedom that attracts me, the abandonment in the emptiness of the skies?
Is it the echo in the heart that want's to break free and go beyond to live the sensations?
Is it a memory of floating effortlessly without fear, the conscience clear, all those years ago in mummy's tummy?

Whatever, ever since I have been little I have wanted to see them, hear them and touch them. And be in them. Even now after all these years, I savour the moment each time I take off, letting the earth drop below...

And propellar aircraft have a romance to them that is uncomparable. The sound of the throbbing engines, mechanical wonders emanating a sensation of power. The sight of the spinning propellars, a visual joy, alive. The speed, comprehendable, enjoyable, still within the boundaries of human perception.
The knights that fly them. An unspoken understanding between them and their machines, to mutually respect each others capacities and limitations, dance together in the skies as one and then bring each other safely home.

Planes are like the imagination. They are at their joyful best when they are flying effortlessly, flinging themselves faster, higher, further.