Walls in airports are solemn. They charge on secrets that they’d not tell. They guard.
Outside you fly. Inside your feet are free to move. The pace is different. Some feet are running, some walking, some clicking the floor. There is scratching, talking, laughter, crying and shrieking. There are directions. There are gates. The is a way in and there is a way out.
You can lean against the wall and look for silence. Once and again you’d find it. Surprised, you would rise your eyes, and see figures that do not move.
They stood not far from me, but not as close. Two men. Dark coats. The same height, bold heads. Holding each other very tightly, they stood very still, cheeks touching in perpetual stillness. I watched them. “Did these two men cry, love, lived togehter? Did they just meet or do they move apart?”
The walls and I would not know. We let them stay. I stepped away and passed the secret to the wall.
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Helena Magidas Johansen