Post worth sharing by Anya Martin True story: As the jet pulled away from the gate, I noticed a dead grasshopper caught between the inner and outer glass of my window. Its pale yellow body laid on its side, its bent wings almost white--perhaps bleached by harsh unrelenting sunlight above the clouds. As the plane began to lift off, the grasshopper slid towards me, its beady eyes glassy and vacant. How did it get into that tight, sealed space, to suffocate and be doomed to fly endlessly between Atlanta and Toronto or whatever location the regional jet was assigned? In another lifetime, it would have perhaps frolicked on a grassy field or showed up on my doorstep, but here it lay, a perfectly preserved carcass on a neverending journey.
Posted on: Mon, 09 Sep 2013 13:27:34 +0000
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