en route

aiports are cold, lifeless, steel.


the people's life sedentary as they wait to embark on a journey away, or a journey back home.
mothers and fathers pushes through their tiredness as they watch their kids have fun in imaginary land,
businessmen waste not their precious time, happily sip beers by the bar, or work feverishly on their laptops,
the occasional lost lone traveller pushes by looking for Gate 15,
admiring the young students who catches beloved naps between transit.
and some,
some just seat and read,
some just seat and watch as time pass by,
all just sit and wait.

they think they are using precious time well,
but all do they are is just waiting, waiting.

airports are cold, lifeless, steels.