A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

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I love the airport.

Busy ones – of course.

The faces,

The stories,

The feeling of community

With the shared discomfort of travel

Among so many strangers.

I love

watching the people go by

And seeing the differences,

And trying to guess

Their story.

Where that running man in uniform could be going

Or why that girl is crying so hard.

Sometimes I wish

I could sit in an airport all day

And capture the unique faces

In a drawing,

In a non-creepy way – of course.

I could do without the flying though.