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Flight from Houston in January Both sides of the sky are visible from here, the clouds below us and a clear blue above. If clouds were boats, one would row them with rods of lightning across the world. In Houston, already perhaps a thousand miles back, for days I saw the warm side of the sky, the sun touched \vith Mexico . . . We drop through thousands of feet of clouds, the wings threshing them like cotton for quilts. Suddenly, the white hills of Pittsburgh . . . I see only the dark side of the sky 46 as we hit the frozen runway. A Pan Am takesoff, leaving behind a row of snow dervishes •whirling and whirling till they become the trance of everwhite trees found on Christmas cards . . . The trees crumble, just so much white dust. 47 ...

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