There are places where time doesn't exist.

An airport, waiting for a flight. There's only the time before your flight is called, and the time after. I can sit and read for 15 minutes or two hours, content in the knowledge that as long as it is Before, there's nothing else I should be doing.

To a lesser extent, there's the flight itself - it contains the takeoff, and the landing, and a gloriously empty space between them.

Those spaces can only be filled with self-indulgence. It's the one time I can bury myself entirely into a book, or just sit and daydream. For that period of time, I can do whatever I want without having a background thread running, worrying about what more-productive thing I should be doing. Because for that one slice of my life, there is nothing else I should be doing. I can simply be Still.

When I was younger, there were more of those times. Lazy Sunday mornings in bed with a newspaper, Saturday afternoons in a bookstore, the whole week after finals.

But aiports are the one constant place where I've always found that sense of timelessness. I always get off a plane with the feeling of relaxation that I imagine most women pay money for at a spa.

I've got to be the only person I know who often does enjoy the journey almost as much as the destination.

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