As I look at the photo, I have to smile. Several years ago, I had the privilege of attending a martial arts camp in Poland with the fabulous poet, scholar, kick-ass martial-artist, and all around great bloke, Afaa Weaver. In the airport at Krackow waiting to catch our flights home, we checked out the book shelves in one of the shops, as writers do. He graciously listened to me go on and on about the novel I was writing. When I finally took time out to breathe, he ran a hand along a shelf of books and told me, half joking, that once your book appears in the airport shops, you’ve arrived. Mind you, Afaa is someone who arrived long before I even realized there was a journey to be made. But I am so there now! In W H Smiths. In Terminal Five. (See photographic evidence.)
Airports are always places in flux, places of comings and goings. Arrival is also departure to new destinations as well as coming home. Airports are places of beginnings and endings. The Initiation of Ms Holly is on the shelf, and The Pet Shop is in the making. I have arrived at the airport. Now the actually journey begins. I can hardly wait to see where it takes me. I’m sure Afaa would see the poetry in this arrival.