Flying is an act of surrender, surrendering to technics and time, technics that are not thought thoroughly until it decides your fate reminiscing Ricoeur's observation of the skeptical argument on the non-being of time that the present "does not remain" the past is "no longer," and the future is "not yet". Time takes something away from you as it provides. Time is more precious than any materiality one may possess. We fly, we ride and we sail not just in time but incorrigibly for time because time cannot wait. Time that ticks is a time that decides. When you fly, time and technics are in control, not you. You surrender to time and technics. Once you die, time flies. But what is time? It is time to fly.
