Airports. Places of transit. Places of waiting. Place where journeys take place, yet life seems to be on hold for a while. Places of excitement, of anxiety, of boredom, of joy and sadness alike. Where loved ones are parted and reunited, bodies hugging and tears flowing. Where adventures begin and end.
There’s the noisy family taking their children on the annual beach holiday. The younger couple, not yet burdened with offspring, taking a more relaxed break. Droves of business men and women on the daily commute to work in a place too miserable for them to want to live in. The young adventurers armed with backpacks but no plans, seeking thrills and excitement off the beaten path. The students leaving home comforts for the grind of university classes. The boisterous stag party, whose trip will be lost in an alcohol fuelled haze. The older group of friends, who’s kids are all grown up, on a more sophisticated city break for the first time in years. The elderly retired couple visiting relatives, for a wedding or a new baby.
Airports are unusual places, unlike any other in the world. Places of transit and waiting, both literally and figuratively. Places where life pauses to breathe, to contemplate, to reflect, before the next stage begins.