A bad poem about airports Airports- a liminal space where Humans of every race rush as one to a place of their own People scurry my vision is hazy, clarity fading, my mind grows daisies, Time got lazy I have the airport crazies Bodies are estranged from brains, they flew away on planes and we float in terminals, waiting to go but can’t escape the traveller's limbo. Playlist of feelings: This is how we walk on the moon- Arthur Russell The only living boy in New York- Simon and Garfunkel Anemone- the Brian Jonestown massacre The only thing- Sufjan Stevens Time escaping- Big Thief Night walks and naivety On the first day in India, a group of strangers escaped together into the night. I imagine we looked like school children who escaped the play yard and were tentatively but enthusiastically exploring the chaotic, bustling world that dwarfs their small existence. As all our senses were overcome with stimulation, we understood that it was possible to hold contradictory beliefs that were equally valid at the same time. Sentiments of awe, fear, humility, boldness, overwhelm, self-doubt, fascination and wonder were invoked in all. Each was a pioneer in their own mind as they stepped out into a world they could never imagine would have existed. We hoped that our panicked inner dialogues were incomprehensible to the locals who moved through the streets with artistic, expert familiarity, working with temperamental mediums of which they are masters. Navigating streets with grace, pedestrians and vehicles danced together in the same space as percussion pounded and horns blared, illuminated by spotlights of store signs. I am unsure whether they saw us as so blatantly out of place as children in an adults' world or if our mentality was that of a convict on the run, imagining suspicion where there is none, and, in fact, they did not even notice us at all. Playlist One night in Bangkok- Murray Head Human- the killers Informer- Snow Auroville “I changed my name to B. My name was Bill, but I had to get rid of the ill so that I could just B.” - William (B) Sullivan, a pillar of Auroville and a man with some hot takes. Auroville is simultaneously completely out of this world and entirely of the earth. We connected with the divine through our bare feet. We ate meals sourced from mere meters away, prepared by hands even closer. We lay collectively exposed to the vibrations of music created by man. We basked in the depths of these sounds and soared with the highest frequencies. We connected to a universal consciousness and embraced a manifesto of cultural redemption. Playlist: Dear Believer- Edward Sharpe and the magnetic zeros. Society- Eddie Vedder Touch of Grey- Grateful Dead Heal the world-Michael Jackson Love- Lana del Rey