home sweet home

My favourite part of going away (at least for work) is coming home. I feel a palpable sense of relief, of my chest expanding and being able to breathe in more deeply when I reach the immigration/arrivals hall at Heathrow.

Departure lounge

I'm waiting yet again in the same familiar departure lounge for yet another flight. This flight, as many of my flights, has been delayed, and with a surreal sense of being trapped in an eternal repetitive cycle, I'm waiting for my departure gate to be announced, uncertain if I will get to board in half an hour, an hour, or if the flight will be cancelled. Sometimes it seems like I spend my entire life waiting in lounges, stuck in a limbo: for flights, for my prince to come, for qualification for permanent residency, for something to happen. I'm waiting for my departure gate to be announced: for my life to begin.