When time passes by, smearing day after day with sameness, one does not expect surprises. One does not anticipate excitement or sudden surges of adrenaline. But, unbeknownst to an untrained eye, swirling morasses of forces work. They consecrate, they disintegrate, they move, they shove, they change things. Then one sundry Morning, you brace yourself to breathe in fumes, clogged and choked in traffic, at the beginning of an unfinished flyover. Instead, you are lifted right up a smooth, smooth road and you look around in awe, shock, and good-grief!-is-it-true?! kind of thrall. The flyover near the airport is complete – both ways!
Some things beg for a salute and a standing ovation. And, of course, a really earnest, soul-felt ‘Thank you!’
Some things beg for a salute and a standing ovation. And, of course, a really earnest, soul-felt ‘Thank you!’
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