From 6 to 12, the city bustles non stop. Catering those that work here, and those that lived here. You see the walks of life from your car, from your office window, and from your very own eyes. There's always something more than the surface, it's no...
I love being inside planes, not because of the service and all, but because of the spectacular scenery you witness. The best part is sunrise and sunset, the color gradation is amazing to say the least. We were about to land, so I closed my mac book and placed it inside my bag.
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I had taken a couple of pictures of the scenery from the plane. Every time a cloud is uniquely shaped I would take a picture of it, I'll ask Luv to make a collage out of it sometime soon. He's really good at collages, and we plan of making one in our apartment.
That guy... I don't love him, no not really. He cracks jokes, comforts me, frustrates me, cusses me and I do it back to him. But the reason I stuck around with the "Mandala" is because of his artwork, they never fail to amuse me, and his pieces always seem to gravitate me towards him. I am interested, not because he's my dream knight in shining armor, but because he's a baggage full of wonder, so to speak.
Love is too strong of a word, we can't just call any relationship love. If it is truly that important, we should use it more sparingly. There are other words that could express how you truly feel: Admiration, respect, affection... But love? No, not love But I have to say I kind of miss him, usually when we fly I always hold his hands upon takeoff and landing. But next to me, is just a stranger. --------- My luggage rolled out of the airport terminal with me tugging it around, what an old structure. It may be modern looking in the inside, but in the outside? It's the same structure for years, orange bricks. Orange bricks and orange pillars. Luv had always wanted to decorate this old place, but people have been trying for years to make murals in this airport. They won't let them. I told him that this building has become a classic addition to our country, and should stay that way.
I met him at the gate, black jeans, a shirt and a pair of faux Yeezys. He's not as tall as Zaky and about the same height as Ernest. He's 10 centimeters taller than me though. He waved at me while his left hand was holding a venti cup.
I got to him and as usual, hug him in embrace and pecked him in his cheek. His arms around me, quite muscular considering he doesn't go to the gym. His diet is a mess as well yet he is still stronger than average, I'm so jealous, as being a person that could gain weight easily only by snacking.
"Come on, let's go." He told me, we walked towards the car in the parking lot. Through the pillars of the newly constructed train station right in front of the terminal. He parked it a bit farther, but what's a couple of steps?
He shared his Venti cup with me, for drinks, I never wanted to share it with others. It's a bloody cocktail of bacteria and other organisms that could be transferred with me. I make exceptions though, especially that he bought us a huge cup of green tea latte, my favorite.
"I'm driving alright?" He asks me, I gazed at his face, he didn't shave this morning. "I need to send my article to my editor, along with several pictures."
"So long as you sit in the front with me." He continued, we got into the car and placed on the seatbelts. I opened my macbook and polished my article. About the ArtScience museum. He was quiet after our conversation yesterday, his eyes are a bit baggy again, and he has a really weird sleeping schedule.
