If I believed in a bucket list there might be a few places on it. One could be the desert near Bakersfield, California where the dead metal carcasses of jets are lined up in rows like in a cemetery. In truth, I have really always just wanted an old jet to inhabit my life on some acreage somewhere, turning it into a spare bedroom, a study, or a sexy cocktail lounge for friends. A small handful of rich eccentrics have done this and it provokes a little envy in me. Pinterest is full of wonderful airplane conversions for those curious about this sort of thing.
This photo above, came from the NYT a while back and which I loved immediately, and it has since found a resting place on my desktop because I am a lover of stripes.
In a wishful world it's as if some really cool, clever painter got hold of a fuselage and made this with it.
Not too much else to say about it, I guess, except it is what it is, and thankfully so. I find such inordinate beauty in such things, and I am grateful that others do too even though the problems of our resulting ecological dysfunction does not enter into it, for better or worst.
It's easy to find a friendly family resemblance to ships tied up in ports and hulking in squalid beauty. Cosmetic maintenance on ships has an obviously different safety requirement than that of airplanes. Who would board a rusting airplane?
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