disoriented

Flying into Whitehorse on Wednesday night, the sky was black, the land below was black. Only a few stars, and when I looked down as we began our approach, still several miles away from town, there were very few lights below - a close match, in number and distribution, to the visible stars. In the flat air and white noise of the plane, looking out into inky blackness, it suddenly seemed to me that we were floating through space, no up, no down, no particular direction.