Waiting in Stanstead...

"Suddenly the silence broke and there we were... Noise rushed in and filled the vacuum. Deep breaths were taken, lungs were filled, brows were wiped. A collective, fleeting, look of confusion passed over many faces; young faces, old faces, foreign faces, sad faces, happy faces. Faces that wouldn't see another dawn, faces that had seen too much already.
Time rushed at us all, bundling us along. Like a coiled spring suddenly released we burst forth, full of untapped energy; aimless, driven, chaotic, beatiful and frightening.
The future beckoned, uncertain and perilous, sure to end in tragedy for some... but all that anyone knew for certain was that the past, history itself, began right there, right then."

Not sure what this is about, but while waiting for my delayed flight in Stanstead I felt compelled to write it. Maybe it will become something else, it seems like a good beginning for something.
Sitting there, looking around at everyone's bored, impassive faces, it seemed easy to imagine time somehow stopped, a collective holding of breath for an interminable amount of time.
Then suddenly, like a thunder clap, everything began again, sound and movement rushing back into being. But what if it wasn't time starting again, what if it was time beginning for the first time.
The begining of life somehow occuring at a shitty Ryanair airport terminal. Our collective history implanted into our minds, but this being the real starting point for everything. And for one brief moment you have an inkling that something isn't quite right, a feeling like waking up wearing somebody else's clothes, but being told, that, no, that's what you came to the party in, and then your brain just doing what it does best, ignoring the improbable and just accepting what it sees in front of it, and forcing you to just go on with things.

Well, these things go through your head when you fly with Ryanair, trust me...