At the airport

Airports are the worst. They seem like an opening in between heaven and hell, like everything would begin and end there. Hearts are being broken, soals are being cured.

People coming, going, crying. The world’s spinning a little bit faster, tears are falling a little bit louder. Hello, goodbye, goodbye, hello. Until someone calls your gate.

The airport also seems to be the only place in the world where the questions “Where do you come from?” and “Where do you go?” are easy to answer. As if we had one origin and one destiny and that’s about it. As if life was an A-to-B-journey, no more options, no return.

It’s a cemetery of broken dreams as much as it is the very first step in an incredible adventure. It’s free falling and hitting reality. It does always hurt. It feels. Fear, anger, sadness, hopes, longings for the more out there.

Last kisses, first hugs. Lost people, flights, passports. Suitcases full of memories. Children screaming, mothers leaving. Parents waving. A fucking take-away-show. Backpacks bursting, young men running. Tickets flying. Airplanes direction heaven, hell, home.

I don’t think I’m going anywhere yet. I don’t feel ready for the airport.