My Own Devices : Airport Version

We are about to take off for a distant country which at this point I can only imagine. It seems strange and even impossible in my imagination: a persistently exciting place, even a little bit scary, but at the same time vague and uneventful. I can't get a grip on its dimensions, either, as if the precise layout of the country has not yet been decided. The food doesn't taste like anything in particular, the architecture is non-descript, and nobody knows any good jokes. It's also more or less static, and consistently room-temperature. This impression won't survive half a minute once I arrive, of course. It never looks the way I imagine it, and it never looks like the postcards; it is always more confusing, more frantic, more peculiar, and even more scenic, but never in the way I expect. Book jacket.

Corey Frost is a Canadian who lives, studies, teaches, writes, and performs in New York City