Crossings

Loitering the airports watching lovers part and strangers sitting side by side, it is the midnight flights that make me miss home the most.

Roaming the streets listening to bad singing and drunken cat-calls, I start to appreciate the saying that every decision made after 2am is wrong.

We are all alone and sometimes lonely, even when we stand in the middle of the busiest street in New York City. We will arrive at our destination with people from all walks of life who will never walk into ours; we will cross paths but once in this journey.

We are strings of numbers away and area codes apart, or we could be varying just a number and sharing the same zipcode; I could cross miles of oceans for you, but would you cross a street in the blinking 22 seconds for me?

Fly me to the moon and you can have your pick of stars along the way; on way to my final destination and you rode along to pick up the pieces of your broken dreams. One small step for me, a giant tragedy awaiting release (like the kraken); you reached for the stars but they died a thousand years before you even saw the light, what a pity.

And if all these make no sense to you, what I’m trying to say is – everyone can mean nothing but anyone could mean something, it’s our choice and our doing; not everything makes sense and it’s ok as long as you enjoyed it while it last.