They are not pure white like I expected, but gray-blue, almost purple. They unfold around me like a carpet, or a continent. I am put in mind of Kamigawa, of moonfolk, of palaces built upon air and mist and dreams.
I begin to descend, dropping through the clouds, which surround me with darkness and gray. The plane rocks and shudders. The family in front of me puts their hands up, like they’re riding a roller coaster.
For a brief moment, I can see the ocean, a dark pool creeping into the edge of my vision, like a migraine.
Finally, we are low enough. Australia appears on both sides, solid, real, and wet.
We slide gracefully towards the airport, onto the runway, down towards the gate. Rain surround us. Everything is slick, overcast, and shadowed.
But then, on my left, through a break in the clouds, I see the sun rising.
I’ve arrived.