Travellers would soon start to forget their journeys. But before long, they would grow curious once more about Dubrovnik and Prague, and regain their innocence with regard to the power of beaches and medieval streets. They would have fresh thoughts about renting a villa somewhere next year. We forget everything: the books we read, the temples of Japan, the tombs of Luxor, the airline queues, our own foolishness. And so we gradually return to identifying happiness with elsewhere: twin rooms overlooking a harbour, a hilltop church boasting the remains if the Sicilian martyr Saint Agatha, a palm-fringed bungalow with complimentary evening buffet service. We recover an appetite for packing, hoping. We will need to go back and learn the important lessons of the airport all over again soon.
A week at the Airport: A Heathrow Diary, Alain de Botton
A week at the Airport: A Heathrow Diary, Alain de Botton
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We forget everything: the books we read, the temples of Japan, the tombs of Luxor, the airline queues, our own foolishness
نمیدونم نعمته یا نغمت، ولی یه جرعه حقیقته.
نازک بینیت دلپذیره. و ممنون بابت لینک ها و ارجاعات کاملت. انگار که همه رو به دیدن دعوت میکنی.