The topic of flying is mostly an endless litany of complaint: seat space, food quality, security proceedures, and all the rest.
But I sat, tonight, and watched out my window at the intake of a jet engine, a device which can move something the size of an office block simply by sucking air in and spitting it out, dragging hundreds of people through the air by nothing more than applying heat to air. And when that air moves something as uncomplicated as pieces of metal formed into just the right pair of curves, the whole massive edifice, passengers and all, lifts into the sky, elevated by the differential motion of air; something that is at once so simple it beggars belief, and so complex it has taken us more than 99.9% of our existence as a species to understand.
For untold generations humanity dreamed of soaring through the air, and now I am doing it. A thing invented only a little before my grandfathers were born and the stuff of the wildest fantasies before then.
I am enchanted.