You and me both, kid.

I creepily took a picture of this kid at the airport in Spain yesterday because it was an external example of how I felt inside, and also because I’m creepy and at a point where I find all kids below the age of five charming and important. It was 24 hours of gum and coffee and waiting and turbulence and swollen feet and weird bread, but I finally made it home. I’m finally learning to let go of time when I travel. New travel mantra: There is no time. There is no time. There is no time. There is no WAIT ACTUALLY THERE IS TIME, IF YOU DO NOT LAND BY A CERTAIN TIME YOU WILL NOT MAKE YOUR NEXT FLIGHT shhhhhhh RIGHT NOW THERE IS NO TIME EAT YOUR WEIRD CROISSANT Okay fine.

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