Waiting

I love the airport. Really. I guess its one of those places which are in between, like you're neither here nor there, and is a little romantic like. My dad says its because I'm a wee little frog in a wee little well that has hardly travelled, because you get bored of the place real quick. Whatever. It would be a sad time indeed if you get bored of the things that make an experience truly enriching, and is wearied so far that you no longer appreciate the things that you had once loved. I guess Man is easily bored my the constant, and easily distracted by the novel. Sigh. Yet we pursue consistency, complain if there are too many changes, whilst wishing for refrershing, amusing new toys. Ah. The ultimate human paradox. Departing...