Old memories

Whenever I fly, old memories come around. I see my father. And all the adventures he made me live with him.

The Miss Elizabeth is flying slowly as I recall old stories about my father and his young boy. He was my personal hero.

We are the same, after all. We are the same blood. He is with me. Always. Even more now, while I’m hanging over this endless space.

It’s funny. A smile is on my face. I just remember an old thing my father told me, once.

‘Life is strange’ he told me. ‘But it will always lend you a hold. And you will stick to that hold. And follow it’.

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Because it will help you climb higher and look the world from a different point of view’. This was him. This is what I am.

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