Table for one in the slow lounge. The appeal of airports. It’s almost grounding. The hint of adventure. The burden of responsibility. The blessing of good fortune. The numerous memories of defining moments spent in airport terminals, restaurants, and departure and arrival halls. They’re all just whispers beckoning nostalgia while egging me on to want to take the next trip, preferably to a place I haven’t been before. 

Life tends to stagnate when I revisit the same places all the time. Home is not always a good anchor, but then again, neither is being set adrift without a harbour in sight or in mind. The mind can never be unleashed or kept safe and protected. The biggest bigots I’ve seen are those that have rarely travelled. Being exposed to different cultures and places tends to erode that arrogance associated with myopic ignorance. 

The irony of capitalism. Striving to serve a purpose greater than our selfish needs is always a good mediator to extract the good from the experiences and wealth of our lives. 

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