Searching for H-8.
Walking, walking, walking.
There it is. Tucked away in a far corner.
I meander through the sea of travelers
hoping to see my final stop up in lights.

As I searched for confirmation,
I noticed an unfamiliar sound.
Who are these people?
Where are they going?
I could not understand them.

They were clustered in companionship.
Their language was a chorus of unfamiliar sounds;
a rhythmic noise filling up the entire space.
I turned around in wonder.

Their eyes, hair, skin;
their clothing, bags, and belongings
were all colorful accessories –
a clue into their origin and culture.
Can they see my curiousness?
Do they know that I am the one that doesn’t belong?
I watched them in utter amazement.
Oh, how I wished I understood what they were saying.

Before long, their destination was called.
In organized chaos, they migrated towards the door.
One by one they disappeared into the designated portal;
each of them peeling away a layer of their unique chorus.

Then, within minutes, there was quiet,
and I was left alone with my English speaking thoughts
and my familiar belongings.
Recognizable conversations began to surround me.
I was settling into a rhythm I had grown accustomed to.

As I anticipated my own departure,
I couldn’t help but think about my foreign comrades.
People from a far-away place,
sharing the same space at the same time with little me.
Bon Voyage my friends. Safe travels!



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