Flights – Olga Tokarczuk

When I first started this book, I kept getting lost in its passages. 

Like a new kid in a new classroom, like a traveler in a new place, 

I kept looking back retracing my steps to gain a footing in the story that unravels within the clean white pages of Flights. 

Then gradually, as I began to gain an insight on the concept of the book, 

I simply read on and immersed myself into the blanket of words and the world that comes with it. 

The stories told in this book were all mostly very new to me, very foreign,

I felt like I’m the owner of an apartment building to which I have the keys for all of its doors. 

I like how it kept mentioning about travel, 

the sensations felt in flights, 

airports, time, existence, infinite, finite, 

and humans in its fragility and agility.

I found it wonderful how the book weaved its way through such a detached yet complete way, 

hopping from one sequence to another, much to the pleasure yet confusion of the reader. 

I remember being surprised as I turned to the next page and realised the page was blank. 

I didn’t want it to end just yet and I couldn’t guess when it will end unlike other books I have read due the way it uphold itself.

At the last page, I felt as if I was about to embark on another journey, riding on a plane around complete strangers, anticipating what is about to come. I really like the ending, especially since I have always like the concept of flights and airports. It was an enlightening read. Another journey made in the crevice of my quiet world.