Back to uni
Pensive. That must be how I travel. There is something about knowing that you're tearing across vast distances at vast speeds, the miles peeling away in blurred strips...and yet, seeing the windowed world just plod by, at a most deceptive crawl. And time...it eddies sluggishly around you, piling up in great lumbering heaps of boredom in potentia. Great spaces, great blank holes in disequilibrium waiting to be filled. Waiting for thought, like water, to find its own level, and crash into the depths.
If moods were bacteria, travelling would make the optimum breeding conditions for pensiveness. Throw in a bit of impossible romance, a little sadness, a tinge of frustration, a dash of "oh well". Stand back, and watch the colonies erupt.
I am rather ill.