I spend a lot of my life, it seems, staring at baggage carousels. Specifically, I spend a lot of my time looking at the flaps through which my suitcase might eventually appear. It is a Zen-like experience, simply accepting the fact that my luggage will probably not appear for hours. I am, perhaps, to blame: I am so very terrified of being late (for anything) that I always check into my flight many, many hours in advance. I am usually the first to do so, and hence, by the laws of "LIFO" (last-in, first-out) baggage handling, my cases typically appear after everyone else's have been and gone.
In my frequent vigil, staring at the luggage flaps, it is easy to make friends with a sweet little red suitcase that goes round and round, its owner blissfully unaware of its circulations. Girly luggage, alas, is something that I, as a proud father of a cohort of boys, will never experience first-hand.
The image that makes the haiga is a special other kind of scarlet luggage, which appears with a circulatory frequency of just once per year: it is the "Santa stocking" that I somehow managed to sew myself, one Christmas eve, for my eldest son. This year, I must make a second stocking, for my youngest son...
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I spend a lot of my life, it seems, staring at baggage carousels. Specifically, I spend a lot of my time looking at the flaps through which my suitcase might eventually appear. It is a Zen-like experience, simply accepting the fact that my luggage will probably not appear for hours. I am, perhaps, to blame: I am so very terrified of being late (for anything) that I always check into my flight many, many hours in advance. I am usually the first to do so, and hence, by the laws of "LIFO" (last-in, first-out) baggage handling, my cases typically appear after everyone else's have been and gone.
In my frequent vigil, staring at the luggage flaps, it is easy to make friends with a sweet little red suitcase that goes round and round, its owner blissfully unaware of its circulations. Girly luggage, alas, is something that I, as a proud father of a cohort of boys, will never experience first-hand.
The image that makes the haiga is a special other kind of scarlet luggage, which appears with a circulatory frequency of just once per year: it is the "Santa stocking" that I somehow managed to sew myself, one Christmas eve, for my eldest son. This year, I must make a second stocking, for my youngest son...
Toodlepip,
Hobbes
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