In Las Palmas the airport looks over the sea. I feel full of Chinese food and oxytocin. Everyone at the airport looks great. Drinking matcha at the Starbucks and thinking about the faces of my friends. Of the digital nomads on the roof. Of entrepreneurs. Of spreadsheets. Of his face at night. And then I cry because I will miss this life. And then I cry because I feel lucky to know Las Palmas, to know freedom and business strategy and international friendship. Currently I have a friend named Lara, a friend named Laura, AND a friend named Lauren. They are all so cool. This is a cake life! It is so rich!
The plane takes off. I am in the middle seat in the middle aisle. The man next to me reads Harry Potter. I cry again and feel fine about it.