I have eight hours of spare time. Free to wander about, trapped in transit, between one country and the next, in a giant coloured ball of an airport.
I have not slept in eighteen hours, but this glitzy, cotton-candied ferris wheel has me awake.
People have slowed...dragging their languid eyes and heels... because their bodies have said that the time is dark night.
Almost morning.
Work breathes deeply, finishing with me in tired satisfaction.
I make lists.
Starbucks, after months.
And desire. Or some such thing.
1 little pigs:
Good that you had some spare time to churn another succinct piece .. which as ever, is lovely read ..
Have a wonderful trip!
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