Orlando.

The twinkling stars reveal themselves during a nightflight. Vast and distant as you feel yourself getting ever closer to thier burning magnificance.
You make up constellations as you stare at the shapes, thier patterns becoming familiar pictures against the blackness.

And slowly each one reveals itself by its shape and the guiding symmatry of a population centre under the flight path it becomes easy to find. Junctions are a bright spot of butter on a breadcrumb trail freeway.

Closer. Shopping centers distinguish themselves.

Closer. Cloverleaf junctions, white mice cars scamper on a yellow brick road.

Closer. Cars have two headlights now. Empty parking lots awash with a halogen sun.

Now you see a runway. Now you feel it. The safety belt sign finally gives up and we are free.