The Liminal Spaces

By Andy On The Go

3:00 AM. Tan Son Nhat, Changi, or Narita… at this hour, they are all identical. They are giant “Liminal Spaces”—buffer zones where time seems to bend and stand still.

Under the cold white fluorescent lights and the monotonous hum of the central air conditioning, I see a different world. There are no gentlemen trailing expensive cologne briskly walking toward the business lounge. There are no girls posing for chic check-in photos with overpriced coffee.

There are only sleepwalkers.

Passengers sprawled across cold metal benches. Some resting their heads on backpacks, others bundled from head to toe in coats, some curled up in the fetal position. Sleepy faces, haggard, makeup washed away, revealing dark circles that are exhausted and utterly authentic.

I love this atmosphere. Here, our identities are suspended. No one cares if you are a Strategic Director or a poor student. No one judges the shoes you wear or the watch on your wrist. We are all equal in the face of waiting.

We are souls hovering between “Departure” and “Arrival,” belonging nowhere. In that undefined and hollow moment, I feel my heart lighten. No pressure, no expectations, no role to play.

The night airport reminds me: Life, in reality, is just one giant waiting room. We arrive, we wait for the final flight of our lives, and while waiting, let us snatch a moment of peace, even if it is on a hard metal bench.

In Search of Naivety