Surreal Destination

[Written in an airport waiting room in Taipei].

Another floor of white titles below a ceiling populated with florescent lights. My eyes lose focus and the grout lines bend. Another room full of benches and waiting people. A purgatory for those that are not in the air. The air is another purgatory for those who have not yet found a destination. People all around me escape their purification underneath the light pale embrace of ipod ear buds. I find different consciousness under the quick flashing electronic trance precipitated pixels and an innocuous frame rate. I long for the escape of paper, but my heavy lids protest . . .