A simple dream, or so it seems. Somewhere (I don’t know where) with my Indonesian niece, Ela, we are sitting somewhere (not the UK, not Indonesia) chatting. We have to leave. We go into an airport with rooms like curtained-off hospital beds. I realise we have to separate and go in different directions. I have to go on a long flight; she on a short one.
Saturday 5 March 2011
Flights
A simple dream, or so it seems. Somewhere (I don’t know where) with my Indonesian niece, Ela, we are sitting somewhere (not the UK, not Indonesia) chatting. We have to leave. We go into an airport with rooms like curtained-off hospital beds. I realise we have to separate and go in different directions. I have to go on a long flight; she on a short one.
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