Concrete & rebar encase the hive, a buzzing center of travel & commerce where lives mingle with one another unbeknownst. Gripped by the sonder of individuality I watch each of them pass; some beginning their journeys, some in the middle, & some have reached their final destination. Each passing patron parades through the terminal, possessions in hand, scurrying too & fro like mice seeking shelter from a danger looming overhead. What must each of their fully fleshed out lives be like? Who are these people when the stress of hurry up & wait isn’t baring down on them? I watch them leaned lazily against the window; the outside air cooling the glass where it makes contact with my skin. My fingers trace circles in the scratchy, short carpet as I slip in & out of daydreams, little self inflicted distractions to pass the time as I await the winged carriage that will catapult me across the sea into my next adventure.