Trek to the Cave

of the tunnel you can smell the fumes of burned Kerosene. The weather was cold as if you bathe at 9 p.m. on a windy and rainy evening. The flight was a long one, fortunately the 3 shots of smashed panadols aided me to sleep for a good 13 hours. After neglecting the freshly microwav-ed pickled salmon, a bowl of instant mushroom soup and 3 slices of toasted aubergine, it has caused a minor drowsiness in between the stomach and the pancreatic duct.

The airport is gross. Larger than Charles De Gaulle nor Schipol. The paints off the wall are ripping off.The water-based paint on wall were bold and urid. The direct intense of 600 watt artificial lights and non stop air conditioning may have developed the non-long lasting susbtance to make the airport look warm and welcoming.

Along the way to the customs, the security activities in the airport was moving. You can see atleast two pieces of Hockler and Koch at every corner. The security measure is so tight, you can never find a dustbin to throw away the empty bottles from the plane.

Along the way towards the exit, the sound of words began to increase by every 5 footsteps. The weather too are getting nippier. Outside the airport, the movement was passive. People seems to be indecisive. They even look illusive. Waiting for the loved ones to arrive at the arrivals gate. A mini white board is tucked by the hand of almost everyone and a hand written name will be marked on the mini white board.

The first taste of a burned tobacco after the 13 hours flight was a short stint of stupefaction. The sour taste of orange juice actified the nerves which controls the eye lids. The noise outside the airport is much louder. Sound of words, sound of tonks, sound of cumbustioning engine and high pitch sound of the planes flying above the airport. There was no direct sunlight. It was cold. Everybody's mouth produced condensed breath. Everyone. The moment was jovial.