17.30 Frankfurt
This is it. The holiday is over and I haven’t felt so sad to leave home for a long time. I am tired of flying, pulling suitcases in airport terminals, finding seats in overcrowded waiting rooms, hopping on and off trains, queuing in toilets where the coat hangers are missing. I was talking to the driver on the way to the airport about the way we change as we grow older. He asked if I go out in London. I used to, but not anymore. I like having cups of teas with friends and go for walks. My little stolen moments in that consumed life I have chosen. I used to love all this, the busyness of the West End I used to work and went to uni, the crammed Central line, the airports, the waiting, the take offs and the touch downs. I loved it the same way, but with a matured intensity as I used to love dancing in the local disco back home when I was a teenager. This is a new phase, though. A new turbulence. Just an hour ago as we approached Frankfurt a small, but gigantic turbulence shook our plane and my little life. I suddenly felt as the wings balanced as drunken trapezist, oh, no not yet. I haven’t fully experienced The House with The Garden yet. Lord, not yet, please. And I remembered how many times over the years I felt life was not worth living as I looked out the window. Later on as I almost became a robot programming myself for working and studying at the same time and I stopped questioning the sleepless nights and the missing meals I remember always sitting on the left hand side of the aircraft within the first 6 rows by the corridor, the easiest places to get off and rush to the train station. Very practical!
No comments:
Post a Comment