the airport (resurrected)

the airport has the weirdest carpets. i don’t know where you source a length of carpet with these big graphics. so abstract. the triangles, the edges and misshapen dots. the pattern is so big i cannot focus on it in it’s entirety. i fight the urge to lie down on the carpet of travelers, feel it’s utility against my skin.

the windows at the airport are like God, oversized and translucent. outside, large colourful machines rest in a line, orderly. but when they are ignited, i cannot hear them. instead, i see waves of energy discharged into the air. and i wonder what direction the airplanes are going.