The Spectator Aerodome




I've always had a weird and unexplainable fascination with airports. Flights and destinations aside, the actual airport dome, where the magic happens, has always captured my attention.

You can witness life's miracles there. A mother expecting her husband's return and a father expecting his wife's. The children waiting for their parents' return and the parents waiting for their children's. A person in love awaiting the arrival of their significant other and a company representative awaiting that of a CEO for instance.

The airport is where flowers are given, hugs exchanged, tears shed, and where a part of one's heart is ripped away from them, often unwillingly, sometimes in a horrendous way and other times, in the more beautiful tremendous ways.

The airport is where all races are united. Where you get the chance for an encounter with the whole world. Different origins, myriads of destinations, but all under the same roof. It's like a miniature of the world, only an improved peaceful version of it.

The airport is where your anticipation levels rise. Where there's an instant adrenaline rush that's tied to the tiles of the place which surges throughout you when you step in that humongous dome. It’s where you're free yet bound. Where your mind enters a pure state of ebullience, and your insides immediately warm up. It's where your heart flutters and your organs waltz.

I've always admired the airport shops. They somehow find a way to showcase the diversity of the world despite the inevitable overshadowing of the overpriced brands. A stroll around with no intention of purchasing anything and with a rather observant mind and heart is enough to give off a weird satisfaction that can't be achieved elsewhere.

Coffee. Its aroma can lure almost everyone in, sometimes even people who aren't a fan of this caffeine induced drink. Airport coffee, however, is always different. It holds numerous stories of endless hours of waiting, missed flights, sleepless journeys, puffy eyes, crinkled smiles, rushed footsteps, a long stream of conversation, and most importantly, memories.

There isn't a better home for hugs like an airport. It's where they are the most genuine. Not that hugs lack candidness otherwise, however, airport hugs have a warm scent clung to them. When you hug someone as a farewell, the aroma clings to you till they return, and when you hug someone as a welcoming gift, the aroma hangs around till all traces of missing that someone disperses. Although each hug holds behind it an entirely different meaning and a much deeper purpose than its other peers, however, the same aura is radiated, warm tones of sincerity mixed with the strong undertones of heartfelt emotions, and the light fragrance of love.  

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