10.11.2005, Chicago O'Hare
Airports...places where people meet, talk, arrive, depart, eat, drink. Airports, where happy encounters happen, where bursts of smile and tears take place. Million stories a day, an hour, a second. Stories of having met, being late, meeting an unexpected one, meeting a son in 10 years, meeting grandchildren for the first time. Stories of life, stories of routine, thinking of nights, thinking of flights. Enjoying life or being nervouse, being tired being relaxed. Going to thousand places, changing flights, kissing good-byes, thinking of family, friends, love. Thinking of taking a train or bus home, seeing old places again, still so far from home.
Indian, Marocan, Polish, Japanese, Turkish, Australian, German, Argentinian, Greek, Czech, Venezuelan, Italian, Brazilian, Chinese, Egyptian, Korean, Ghanan, Finish, South African...
People selling and buying books, T-shirts, pens, bottles, suitcases, coffees, cookies, sandwiches, batteries, socks, water, pills, films, mugs, chocolate.
Airplanes flying overhead, landing, taking off, parked at gates, people waiting, reading, phoneing, writing, chating, singing, typing, drinking, eating, watching, taking photos, sleeping, searching, hurrying, walking, riding carts, listening, looking forward, being scared.
Sooner or later they take their plane, taxi, car, bus and disappear behind the horizon to a place I've never been and probably won't aver be. But we have met.