Airport lounge

Shattered, plus slightly intoxicated by the previous night I was fighting the frozen air conditioning system at the airport.

Done with my routine ipod-security gate-ipod, I started battling with myself if to buy a sandwich, they are so good in Italy it is highly tempting, yet so expensive. Yes no, yes no, yes no, I queued up at the bar. I then chose the most deserted part of the gate to sit, facing the runway, pretending I was about to jump on that plane to a more exotic destination. Why am I so early this time? I hate waiting when hungover.

I started reading a book, stopping for a moment to look at the Emirates flight attendants with their red and beige suit and funny hat (that by the way i totes rocked here). In a hipster moment of creativity I then took a picture of my sandwich looking at the runway and the plane, the sky in the sunset over a hot and humid Venetian lagoon. It’s the end of August.

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I pushed myself to stay awake by reading, but my heart started galloping with the announcement: they’re calling my flight. The frenzy to get on the plane started around me, but I always stay sit until the very last moment, enjoying to watch people in a rush to leave. I am always alone at the airport, yet I was not feeling lonely, I had my music. It’s time to fly, to my next destination, and this is what my ears, what my soul, is listening to in the process.

When the night is falling in the summer love / Tell me where you gonna stay tonight

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