Written while on a trip back from Florida to school.
thousands of ugly blue-green seats in Orlando International Airport.
In front and behind an infinite hallway stretches towards the horizon. All along stand windows letting light flow and play over schools of people all gliding over the same blue-green carpet.
Much like the color of the ocean. The crowds of people swim by, each individual holding tightly to its bags.
Just swimming in this ugly blue-green sea. A few glide past with what seems to be purpose in their stride.
Every-one, wears a mask.
A regular drone comes through the speakers. The quality of the voice: rough. The message: the same. Every, time. It becomes so regular the thought of being at a beach or floating in a vast sea doesn’t seem so far-off after all.
It is nothing but a delusion that hides the roughness of reality.
I begin to wonder, “?”
“Am I like them?”
At this very moment I am in the terminal of the Orlando airport gate 57. People are walking past me wearing their masks. Except that one guy who has a cup of coffee.