Text2I lived on the bay side of town,on JohnsonAvenue,opposite the Logan Airport, and beforeI went to bed each night, I used to kneel bythe west window of my room and look overthe lights of Boston that blazed and blinkedfar off across the darkening water.More....Translation
Text 2 I lived on the bay side of town, on Johnson Avenue, opposite the Logan Airport, and before I went to bed each night, I used to kneel by the west window of my room and look over the lights of Boston that blazed and blinked far off across the darkening water
TextTheSnseuflaunted its pink flag above the airport, andthe sound of waves was lost in the perpetualdroning of the planes. I marveled at themoving beacons on the runway and watcheduntil it grew completely dark, the flashing redand green lights that rose and set in the skylike shooting stars. The airport was my Mecca.my Jerusalem. All night I dreamed of flyingTranslation
Text T h e s u n s e t flaunted its pink flag above the airport, and the sound of waves was lost in the perpetual droning of the planes. I marveled at the moving beacons on the runway and watched, until it grew completely dark, the flashing red and green lights that rose and set in the sky like shooting stars. The airport was my Mecca, my Jerusalem. All night I dreamed of flying
TextThose were the days of my technicolor3dreams. Mother believed that I should havean enormous amount of sleep, and so I wasnever really tired when I went to bed. This wasthe best time of the day, when I could lie inthe vague twilight, drifting off to sleep, makingup dreams inside my head the way theyshould go. My flying dreams were believableas a landscape by Dali, so real that I wouldawake with a sudden shock, a breathlesssense of having tumbled like Icarus from thesky and caught myself on the soft bed just intime.More...Translation
Text 3 Those were the days of my technicolor dreams. Mother believed that I should have an enormous amount of sleep, and so I was never really tired when I went to bed. This was the best time of the day, when I could lie in the vague twilight, drifting off to sleep, making up dreams inside my head the way they should go. My flying dreams were believable as a landscape by Dali, so real that I would awake with a sudden shock, a breathless sense of having tumbled like Icarus from the sky and caught myself on the soft bed just in time
TextThesenightly adventures in space beganwhen Superman started invading my dreamsand teaching me how to fly. He used to comeroaring by in his shining blue suit with his cape whistling in thewind,looking remarkably like my Uncle Frank who was livingwithmotherand me. In the magic whirling of his cape I could hear thewings of ahundred seagulls,the motors of a thousand planesTranslation
Text roaring by in his shining blue suit with his cape whistling in the wind, looking remarkably like my Uncle Frank who was living with mother and me. In the magic whirling of his cape I could hear the wings of a hundred seagulls, the motors of a thousand planes. These nightly adventures in space began when Superma n sta rted inva ding my dreams and teaching me how to fly. He used to come
Text4 I was not the only worshipper of Superman in our blockDavidStirling, a pale, bookish boy who lived down the street,shared my love for the sheer poetry of flight.Before supperevery night, we listened to Superman together on the radio,and during the day we made up our own adventures onthewayto school.Translation
Text 4 I was not the only worshipper of Superman in our block. David Stirling, a pale, bookish boy who lived down the street, shared my love for the sheer poetry of flight. Before supper every night, we listened to Superman together on the radio, and during the day we made up our own adventures on the way to school