It used tah be that the night before a flight I'd barely shut my eyes from the humming excitement.
Last night was just another night, exhausted from trying to catch up to my life.
This morning was just another morning, the cab, the airport no longer a thrilling, intimidating thing, and I'm just whingeing really because I just got out of a car in which I spent thirty minutes with my dad and had to stop counting racist or demeaning comments when I hit three digits, for fear of blowing many proverbial gaskets.
Travelling still brings out the leftover amphetamines lodged in my brainstem, though, despite a certain lack of awe at the transportation means. A billion thoughts sped across the furrow of my brow over the course of a handful of hours, the pace at which I wish all my days could be, I seem to remember being...
I sat beside the Ultimate Contradiction Woman on the plane from A'dam to Montreal, to the sheer wonder of a six hour stopover in Amsterdam in which I got scooped up at the airport and taken out for un-pronounceable (and relatively inedible) sammidges with fried eggs atop.
I spent the day remembering Amsterdam, rehashing old times, marvelling at home yet another person from so many years ago have changed so much, and so much for the better.
ANd as usual, the predominant argument was which city to live in.
Citizens of the world, as Steven put it once. C'est vraie. Nowhere is home, and yet everywhere is an option.
And maybe one morning the airport will be an exciting thing again.
Right now I'm strapping on my rollerblades and escaping the heavy air in this place.
It hurts to be here.
The screaming has begun. THe disappointment.
My uncle's voice on the phone, missing me, a small spark that just makes the dark behind my eyes sting darker when the dial tone thunders with cold.
It could be that back home it's 2am.
It could be that David's at rehearsal and so I'm in this town, so close and yet utterly unable to reach him.
I wonder if he's thinking of me, if I'm still important enough in his life.
I'm obviously not in the right state of mind, despite Mr. Pyke's kind voice on the telephone.
I usually have more faith.
Today, though, faith is hard in coming.
It could be a thousand harmless things.
My rollerblades are blue, and worn with use.
This is important.