A Night at the Airport by Zuzana Hlubinová

24/08/2010 20:09


A place where you can see the whole world. The only place where every living creature knows where they are going and do not wonder about their destination. A place which, for one night, became a part of me.

The cold marble soul of the airport never lets you feel the killing heat outside. But it is not the neon lights that make this place shine but the faces of people which light up at the sight of their beloved who have come back to them after a long journey. It is not the attractive windows of the shops full of jewels that make this place glitter but the tears of joy.

The airport did not let me be one of those silent spectators or so called airport voyeurs who come and go without being noticed by anyone. I have learned that all human beings have their own destiny and the journey they have to undergo by taking a plane from here is only a tiny fragment of their life journey. I stayed awake the whole night and listened to their stories. For one night I forgot my own story and lived their lives.

What will become of the girl whose childhood dream has been crushed to pieces? After many years of resistance to her fate and lying to herself, she realized it had all been an illusion. What will the morning bring for a couple that has fought to death in front of all the other passengers? What about the boy whose greatest passion is writing poems but everyone who has read them called them pieces of crap? Will the Indian worker, who is too poor to buy a flight ticket to India, ever see his family that he is thinking about while he is washing the cold floor of the airport?

Two o’clock in the morning. Everything is quiet. There is no flight until six o’clock. Some passengers have arrived early and chose to stay at the airport instead of spending the night in a hotel. They are sleeping on the floor covered with their coats, with their heads resting on the bags. From time to time you can hear a voice from the loudspeakers which inform the passengers about the airport security. Another fifteen minutes pass and suddenly the gate of the non-Schengen zone opens and a crowd of Arab women and children rushes into the hall where they are greeted by their husbands and fathers. The tradition and religion do not allow them to act spontaneously. Although they have not seen each other for ages, only a kiss on a cheek is allowed, no hugging, no long and passionate kisses. I am watching them amazed, wondering if I would be able to control my emotions. The answer is clear. I would not.

It is my turn now. Watch me, you cold walls. You have not discouraged me. Even after one night under your freezing breath, my heart remained warm. I have been warmed by human emotions and stories. I am walking towards my fate, not looking back. I will pick up that tiny piece in front of me and put it into the mosaic of my life.

Photo: Katarína Koreňová 

A Night at the Airport by Zuzana Hlubinová

Date: 15/09/2012

By: Diogo Quental

Subject: Loved it!

I loved it :) I've been in a similar situation several times and I just felt there again. I also like to think about each individual own story :)

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