(de)priving private space.
This beast. Confined (de-fined) by a giant airplane. A walk down a tiny linear aisle. A fake smile. here. To your left, to your right, for tens of polyester rows in front of you — seats. Spaces. We must claim our space. We mustn’t shift to another. The plastic armrests insist on separation; they make it easier to build imaginary worlds. The thin spine clings to the hostile chair. The flesh tries to fill it. Own it. Behind the numerous centimeters of plastic away is a whole different world. (deprive the private).(world).
Look. search. Polyester rows in front. Polyester rows behind. Polyester spaces buying you right here. The little foot reaches for the leg adjustment, fingers grasp the recline button…and the polyester seat is sticking out. Odd, unfit, reconciling its self with the leather uniforms around it. This is id-entity. yours. Unsure but desperate, you take off a sweaty sock is a private bedroom constructed around half a meter of space shared with the dark department store jeans to the left. Can’t hide. do not hide. Secrets don’t exist because they are ignored. Everything is open, dried up in the high altitude pressure. Stuck inside a massive airplane and a hundred micro-worlds inside it, you’re clutching to its own space.