Lights like wildflowers in a meadow.
It isn't my first time to a city--but it feels that way. Maybe it's because I'm usually staying in the airport, transferring from one plane to another. What's outside doesn't matter.
But tonight, amid these clouds of yellow lights, I'll get off the plane, pick up my bags, go through customs, and then?
The plane banks. I hate landings, but I hate the waiting even more.