Hello,
Although I thought the first sixteen years of my nihilistic existence were filled with hard stares and faces of bitter disgust I realised that nothing has changed.
I walked through the terminal going onwards on my travels to be greeted with an array of various facial expressions. Some entranced, some petrified. I thought there would be much more traumatic events to torment their minds such as the devastating effects of Haiti or even the war in the middle east whom thousands of our troops are risking their lives for. I sat opposite a weak looking boy, whippet like with a flop or dull brown hair sloped over his skull. He stared contently as I wrote rather erratically into my yellow notepad, noting every jerk of my hand. I wondered whether he was appreciating my subsidence or just wondering what sandwhich to buy from the local coffee shop. Tuna or chicken? It's your choice big boy.

The flight attendants, as stereotypically beautiful as they are portrayed reminded me of identical porcelain dolls, so easily shattered. There cheeks pinned high across their faces, reminding me we could all crash and die and their ecstatic smile would still remain. The plastic pull out tables of the plane felt fantastic. Warm, as if they should melt in my palm yet solid. I love crude oil.

Goodbye,