So it happened that I actually had to fly via Beijing and spend a night at the airport. Airports remain to strike me as strange places. I don’t know– something about people who can afford it having come to go somewhere else. There’s something uplifting and impersonal about airports. Something liminal between the everyday and the magical travel in time and space. I wish someone would suggest turning Beijing airport into a multifunctional botanical garden. There’s definitely enough sunlight, and perhaps then this exclusive place could at least include plants, plant lovers and some butterflies.
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