Lines Drawn in Thin Air

The sky is a vast, indifferent blue. It asks for nothing. We, however, are restless. We feel the need to mark it, to carve paths through the emptiness as if to prove we have passed through. We leave trails of white, temporary scars that fade before the wind has even finished its breath. It is a strange vanity, this desire to write our names on the clouds. We move with such speed, yet we remain tethered to the earth, looking up, waiting for the silence to return. The noise is brief. The void is permanent. We are only ever visitors in the height, tracing lines that cannot hold the weight of our presence. What remains when the smoke dissipates and the blue closes over the gap?

Leanne Lindsay has captured this fleeting geometry in her image titled Air Show. It is a reminder of how quickly we vanish into the expanse. Do you find comfort in the trace, or in the clearing that follows?