I love airports.

Time works differently here.

Society works differently here.

I’m roaming around at 3 in the morning wondering how all these people here are doing exatly the same.

I’m walking down the food court in skinny jeans and a hoodie with a squishy pillow around my neck and then there’s this girl sitting at a Subway outlet in a cute little skirt and a crop top. I’m still cold and she appears not so much. I’m drinking a coffee to try and be sane in this insane environment and there’s this guy gulping down a masala dosa at 3 in the morning. Most here are groggyily slouching on chairs or resting on the shoulders of a companion. And then there’s this group of college kids purely bustling with energy, laughing around bashing each other.

Sometimes when I take a flight from a big city back to my hometown I often wonder how come all of these people are traveling to a small town like mine at the same time at 2 in the afternoon on a working Tuesday!

How is that flight full? How is that flight always full!

And it’s always bright here. Like many I have an evolutionary dislike for the dark. Airports tend to decieve the cycle of day and night and I love them for this even more.

You lose the sense of time. Is it 2 in the afternoon or 12 at midnight. If I take away your watch, you’ll not be able to tell.

And the best part. There’s no judgement.

As I write this, I seem to be the only one judging people’s choices to travel at wee hours, to wear uncomfortable clothes, to eat, to chatter and to lonelily write in a notepad.