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The scene in a busy airport terminal

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The roar of aircraft engines drowns out the sounds of excitement from the car park. Fumes from the cars pollute the surrounding air, overshadowing the smell of freshly cut grass. Solitary rays of sunlight beam through the transparent plastic covering of the exterior car park, reflecting off the metallic colouring of the people carrier below it. Enclosing the vehicle, a sea of suitcases surrounds a red-faced man, his stress levels rising with every bag he drags out of the car. Running around the car, two small boys contrast their father’s stress as their excitement radiates out of their bright eyes; however, their excitement is stalled by the steely glances of their mother, as she tries to regain the level of control she is used to. A rotating glass door marks the entrance of the busy terminal. Restaurants and Cafes which line the Terminal, wafting the thick scent of delicious fudge cake and hot baked pastries towards the people passing.

“Flight 16 to Dubai will be departing shortly” an impersonal voice states on the intercom, causing some of the passers to race into their wallets and make a quick purchase before rushing out again . Lounging on a leather sofa in one Cafe, a married couple chat happily to one another, occasionally glancing over their shoulder to see if their two young boys are still there beside the window looking out to the airport. Fascinated, the boys gaze through the window into the distance; there eyes fixed on a plane manoeuvring through the mountainous region before swooping down and gliding above the runway, then, parting perfectly, as an eagle would across a lake to catch its prey.

Coming out of the cafe two small blonde haired boys, whose faces are still dripping with ice cream, skip jubilantly beside there exasperated mother, who glares at her watch and grabs the sleeve of the boys – rushing to join the back of the queue for passport control. A queue that seems to have no limit winds around the fabric barriers that keep order in the terminal. Pushing a trolley filled to its limits, a man precariously manoeuvres the trolley around a tight bend, avoiding a small girl of about six who is playing with the plastic pole with no care in the world. His wife is highly made up, and holds a small handbag which contrasts the vast amount of suitcases pushed by her husband. Her dark tinted sunglasses reflect the expression of strain on her husband’s face as he turns to her as they are forced to stop moving along the queue.

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