The longest day
Was when I was away from you
The longest day
Was when I was away from you
The aeroplane is entirely to blame
That the gap between us is insane
I’m hearing airport intercom in my sleep. Its intangible nonsense, just like it is at actual airports.
My eyes blink, wide open and I feel I’m on an endless airport walkway with my luggage.
My luggage is heavy, which implies I’m coming back from somewhere. I pack light and mostly buy trinkets and snacks in foreign cities filling up my luggage.
I remember my travels and I love how much effort I put into scheduling and making the best of every hour every day while I was out somewhere in the world.
I miss that.
I miss the sensation of aimlessly walking around foreign cities where no one speaks my language. And I speak four.
I’ve met some great strangers, having a hearty chitchat with a hostess in Bangkok, the hotel manager in Cappadocia who argued the inherent fallacies of Noahs ark with me and the kind Jehovah’s Witness preaching smack in the heart of Istanbul. I should’ve asked him to sit down with a coffee; he was an interesting gentleman.
I am in a good place, work wise, health wise, life wise. But that nagging feeling at the back of my head is back, beckoning me to do something stupid, some new adventure, some rash decisions.
and the song keeps playing on loop.
How can I resist another day
Not to be with you, my love, to help me on my way?
I sit here in my aeroplane seat
There’s only one pause left that allows me to sleep
I like being alone, I don’t like being lonely, specially lost in some foreign city.
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