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January 4th, 2009



People like going to airports. They like the long-term car parks, the check-ins, the duty-frees, showing their passports. They can pretend they're someone else.

Congo, back and forth

My job here is very different than what I used to do when I got out of the flying school. Now all I do is transporting crap. Well, sometimes I charge useful stuff, and once in a while I fly with humans, but rarely.

Most of the times I bring from one industrial town to another pieces of furniture, lamps, electronic stuff for the house, and sometimes I barely know what I am carrying on my plane.

When I was younger, I thought the only reasonable thing one could do if he could fly, was transporting useful, fundamental goods - like food, or water – to the people who needed it. So I enrolled in a little NGO and started working with them. I used to fly to Congo, the plane stuffed with sanitary equipment for the hospitals, for a couple of months I even did that for three times a week. It was tiring and I didn’t really get any retribution out of it, but it felt like I did. That was the last thing I have truly believed in, before I met the Eurasian movement. Now that I am so involved in the movement, it feels like going back to those days when I used to fly back and forth from Congo three times a week.