There is a thing that pushes us somewhere
I love this thing
that makes us
meet restriction with our teeth, howling and rolling around wild
until set loose
So that we may continue walking
to this unknown place
Yes we are advancing blindly
but to stop means to become all shadows
You know
the lightness that comes with freedom
the wholeness that comes from love
the butterfly feeling
the violet ecstasy
bleeding
from these beautiful things
I am feeling weird in Qater. I have Jet Lag. The plane donned a sign advertising the importance of moving the legs or else the feet will swell.
Swell is a hideous word and I moved my legs.
Upon arrival all passengers moved to the transfer station and there was a problem, we were stuck in a line and the men became angry. The temperature rose with their body heat. Fingers were pointed into faces. Security was called several times. This could be normal culture, a more direct style of confrontation over saving face. More likely a conditioned airport response.
In the Qatar airport some women take the form of black burkas. More than I expected. They are like birds shuffling around, parallel to their husbands dressed in white robes.