It’s a commitment to actually go to a travel agent, a ticket with yourself that you really are going. You’ve seen that place in the shopping center, smelt it’s offerings several times as you’ve glanced past, almost being sucked into a brochure, always holding your head away but now you’re ready. You walk in and wait for some service, they look busy trying to climb inside there LCD screens to extract bargains. One of them notices you and with a hand over the speaking end of a phone they motion you to wait. You plant yourself on a seat that seems to have some moguls left over from the Nagano Japan winter olympics. Five minutes later you’re upgraded to business class and begin your discourse with the smart suited smiling agent of your dreams. Her fingers do ballet on the keys and before you can say ‘take off’ she’s got some rough figures and dates. She swings around the screen and there in radioactive green is the plan of your journey, the plan of your future, you think she’s some kind of seer . It all seems so clever, but wait. What if I take that route through there and there and an overnight…. the keys click with ‘can can’ dancer shoes and another range of options appear.

Do you have to decide now?

Not neccessarily- why not print it out or have a think, come back in ten minutes. You float out of the shop. Head filed with all the stops you might or might not make and head for the coffee shop on the corner, you order tea , strong, black and a small French pastry. Those can can Dancers swing their legs in your mind kicking your imaginations. The sweet balloon of glazed fruit and the puff pastry crackle in your mouth like you’re walking on a sheet of frozen ice on a lake and you might fall through at any moment, helping you make your decision. Your feet echo on faux marble tiles as you head back full of resolution…