Krakow, “City of Rocks” Part 1/ The Stables of Rohan
There is someone quite pungent on my flight to Krakau. I close my eyes and try to imagine that I am in the horse stables of Rohan in the age before the darkness but my mind cannot conceive of a steed so colossal and sweaty that it would smell like the stench emitting from my unknown assailant. I pray the smell does not stick to my mustache. I dread the chiming of the bells signaling cabin doors will be closing.
There is also someone wearing a brown cardigan, red v-neck T, Espadrilles, and off-white Capri pants sitting in the cockpit of the plane. He is not a young boy visiting the pilot, he is a man in his mid-thirties with receding hairline and close trimmed beard much like Old Scratch himself. He has been named Capricious by the voice of my mind. Capricious and his Capri’s stay in the cockpit as they shut the doors of the cabin. They lock the cockpit door and Capricious remains inside. I do not know what function Capricious serves inside the cabin, quite possibly mirth and merriment for the co-pilot and his liege, heir captain? Maybe he was just trying to escape from my pungent neighbor.