Looking out from my apartment on the 14th floor, I often see a kite circling its way up into the sky. I'm assuming its the same kite everytime. I could be wrong. I watch with fascination those great wings spread wide, in complete balance with a smaller body and weaker legs. The effortless manner of its slow yet steady rise towards the clouds. A flight of fancy at once, at once a calculated journey to a definite destination.

There is certain meditative quality in the way it flies upward in concentric circles, unwavering and smooth, slow and sensuous, every fibre of its being in complete and utter harmony. Then comes that last ascent soaring straight up into space - out of orbit, out of sight, and definitely out of my reverie. I find the whole experience rivetting.

Now, I can't say that I'm otherwise occupied and thus have to pull my gaze away to some other pressing matters. Somehow that would have a greater impact I guess. Stopping in the middle of mounds of work to not only watch a kite fly but to also stay glued to it.

I have time. Too much of it. I probably even have a lot of things I can do with that time. But the fact is, I don't. I mean I don't do any of those things I could do with all this free time. And yet watching a kite fly engrosses me like nothing else. It's like taking a much needed break from doing nothing to invigorate my thoughts.

I wonder how it would feel to actually fly and see people and objects become smaller and more insignificant with each smooth wide turn, and all the while focus my thoughts on my journey to kiss the sun!