In Transit

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I am in transit. Sitting in a vast, crowded and noisy hall of an airport. Doesn’t really matter which airport, it could be anywhere, the feeling would be the same.

I am not really hungry, however I can’t stop snacking. More than satisfying my stomach, it’s just a way to kill time.

What time is it by the way? I am not sure anymore. Are we talking about the time where I came from, the local time or my final destination time?

One thing is for sure, my internal clock has stopped working, my body and mind making me feel like a zombie.

Am I tired? Absolutely. But my eyez are wide opened. I can’t stop looking around me. There are so many things happening and at the same time nothing’s really going on. The place is just full of people like me. Transiting. Waiting for the final destination.

Who are all these people ? Where do they come from? Where are they going? Some of them look at me. Are they wondering the same things about me? Can they tell where I am from? Where I am going? At that point, I am not even sure myself!

All I know is that I am here. Somewhere on the surface of the earth. Somewhere and nowhere at the same time. Waiting for a connection flight.

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