Soaring through the Saigon Skies.
Atop the lofty wings of a silver steel bird we shot through the air at such an angle to make our barreling away from the city possible. Leaving the endless congestion of auto bikes and littered streets below; up and up we raced forth challenging the white ceiling of clouds above. The once new, but now yellowed and unclean, buildings eventually gave way to geometrically shaped rice field mirrors alongside the muddy Mekong. As our ascent progressed we stood atop the laziest of the clouds and their cottonball coats, watching as they cast their slumbering shadows upon the earth below. Eventually we scaled higher and higher and pierced the flat bottomed barrier above us; our angle straightened and the climb changed to cruise when the gentle *ding* in the cabin signaled us to safe enough to remove our seat belts.