Sometimes I wonder why people seem so busy and powerful on the ground, but once they sit in the cockpit, put on their headsets, and hear that clear communication, they suddenly become quiet. I remember one time flying over a city, with roads stretching out like veins, as everyone rushed around, living their lives, and holding on. But in that moment, I felt—I had finally returned to myself.
The sky is magical; it doesn't push you further away from the world, but instead helps you see it clearly: Many troubles haven't disappeared; you simply realize which ones are worth bearing and which ones you can actually let go of.
For me, flying has never been about "showing off"; it's a very intimate conversation with myself. Like a reminder: you can control the direction, but you don’t have to control everything.
I want to ask you all: Have you ever had a moment during a flight when you suddenly understood what you truly wanted in life?
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