Where I live I get to drive past the Canberra Airport at least a couple of times a week, and for the last month or so I’ve been chuckling at this sign (though also just a little distressed, not much, just a little).  I can’t help thinking the sign is suggesting that this is a place to roll out very sick hospital patients, not quite a cemetery but a dumping ground, a place to leave people in whom we’ve lost interest because they have become too hard to care for, or their case too hopeless.  Or it’s a place for people who’ve lost interest in their days to dispose of their bodies.  A handy chute for poor souls, then.  A place to discard, not to fly.  Though perhaps flying and discarding might be more closely related than I give it credit for.  Who doesn’t shed something, or die a bit, even just emotionally, internally, when they climb aboard a trusty jet and get away for a while?

PS Suggested music for this post: Red House Painters and associates.  Pick a song at random.  You’ll know what I mean.

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