Pilots are lucky people. We are lucky because we are born with a little
whisper inside us that most people aren't endowed with. And sooner or later,
or as a child looking up at that long white line across the sky, or when the
urgencies of life has been taken care of and the first grey hairs start to
appear, this little whisper becomes a breeze, and then a gust of wind and we
take to the skies. Each in his own time, each in his own way, we all urge to
be free to roam the cloud laced heavens. Some of us are content to leave
the smell of fresh cut grass for a brief flight over the countryside,
vintage cloth covered wings shining like metal from the last rays of a dying
sun; others seek the flow of rising air to sustain their long and silent
wings, following the roll of hills. For many happiness is skimming a sea of
white fluff in a tin bubble while going from A to B, while a few find deep
contentment in aerial ballet, the sky the stage for perfect figures painted
by double wings and poweful engines. For others again satisfaction is
keeping those little white needles perfectly crossed, the knowledge of
being a professional among professionals. But in all of us there is that
little whisper, that makes us special and makes us want to share the same
blue sky.