Bologna to Marseille to Caen

6am. Early morning train to Bologna to catch a flight to paris. Woman sleeping on the train across from me. Face forms into a frown with wrinkles to show this is how it's been for years. A tram to the airport packed full like sardines. You can feel that everyone is anxious to get on. Don't worry, I want to tell them, you will. Working in an airport would be solemn, closed in, I imagine. So many people come and go, never to make a close connection. Knowing they're off to somewhere else while you remain there. I would daydream of where they're going. Shit, I am now, and I am going somewhere. Marseille to Caen. Standing in line waiting to board. I think I accidentally paid for the crying baby aisle… Rich older couple, a female wearing gucci pants , a man wearing a suit sit in the last row of the plane arguing, crying baby next to them. Confusion in Marseille airport. Stumblin’ around, vibratin’ in. A new country. A man yells at his daughter as she cries outside baggage claim. He is tan and bald. A couple reunite after time away, kissing in between drags of a cigarette. I wonder which they would give up first? I would like to grow into wrinkles of my own with the same face. A smile's beauty is in the eyes, that's where you can perceive the genuineness of it.