between departures and arrivals
between departures and arrivals
I used to be terrified of flying. the air in my lungs felt thick and heavy, my knuckles a ghastly white from gripping the armrests, as if that would protect me from falling out of a flying can suspended in nothingness.
but somewhere along the way, I grew up and fell in love with the in-betweenness of travelling.
the liminal spaces of airports. that strange, detached reality, where nothing feels real, no one belongs anywhere yet. we’re all simply waiting.
people tend to hate red-eye flights, but I dont mind them. there’s something enchanting about the in-between world at 3am. like how toys come to life at night, there’s something hidden here. things you only notice when you’re half-asleep and maybe a bit drunk on airport wine. even if it feels like the layover is the longest pause of you life.
no longer am I petrified in my seat, lungs in my throat as the wheels leave the tarmac. now travelling feels softer. almost like being a child, falling asleep in the backseat, only to wake up a bit disoriented but safe, in your own bed.
except my bed is never the same. from hostels, to Airbnbs, hotels, and airport sleeping pods. each city holds a piece of me, and I always bring something back. jewellery from markets. memories that entertain me when im bored on the train. photo reminders on my phone of late-night dinners, takeaway Aperols, temple cats, landscapes framed in my mind like a Monet.
in the quiet mundanity of my everyday life, the booking tab sits temptingly open on my laptop. I cant help but crave the world beyond what i’ve known. I guess I never grew out of that childlike eagerness and curiosity.
the thing about travelling is that my return flight is always booked.
i’ve always hated coming home, whether from summers at my beach house or short camping trips. its a strange whiplash, the way departing a temporary home leaves a sting. travelling changes everything about me. it nourishes my hungry curiosity. look away for a second, and its over.
like I was finally able to see in technicolour, only to be forced back to black and white. back in my room, aching for the version of me that only exists across the globe. im still walking on the right side instead of the left. longing for the mountains in Tuscany, rainforests in Malaysia, desert stillness in Dubai.
im not scared of flying anymore.
now its the landing that makes me flinch.
prguitarman
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
