Announcements in two languages.
An empty can of Mirindaaaaaaah lies on a blue seat. It's blue and grey all around actually. Airport colours.
Star News shows an afternoon programme on heroes. Well-dressed people read the Economic Times. Typically male, balding.
It is 15:53. Until the flight takes off, I sit around, writing this. What a strange place, the waiting lounge. A place you wait in on your way to somewhere. Like life giving you a breather. But the air is filled with restlessness. People speak of breaks, but no one likes the limbo of a waiting lounge. They need to be going somewhere soon. Remaining motionless does not come naturally to humans.
A hyperactive boy (3? 4?) wearing bright orange prances and his younger brother watches on in wonder.
Dad doesn't know about this trip. He will know later, after the trip. He'll be worried, and might ask me to not go. Friends were encouraging.
The TV is less loud now. But there's been two bulletins, and nothing about the Tsunami. The announcement voice is muffled. She goes on endlessly. On tv, there is more bad news. That's it. I'm going for a walk.