time freezes at airports. it's funny, because it is exactly because everying is timed to the minute that time is frozen there. flights come in and go out all the time. and the florescent lighting doesn't give you a clue whether the sun was up outside. people of all races walk around you, some sitting around, as if waiting for eternity to begin, sometimes rushing like fish shooting themsleves at a floating bait. it is like the gears in a clockwork, that, by precisely being the mechanism on which time is built, alienates itself from the substance of time. the gears rotate, and maybe some arms move, but inside the clock, twelve midnight is just as well as any second that gives way to the next eternity. Four flights in five days, and my time stil hasn't seem to have thawed.