Q3
THE NOCTURNAL ISSUE
41
THE PASSENGER PRINCESS I sit in a window seat, my eyes trained on the ever-receding horizon. Every departure gate is an embrace, every arrival a fleeting kiss. The world unfolds, spreads out, a tapestry woven from landscapes. Mountains, oceans, bustling cities, empty deserts, each a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter. Maps are more than lines and borders, they are open doors and unexplored trails. Passports filled, not with stamps but memories, a collection of sunsets, smiles, shared cups of tea. My luggage carries more than clothes, it's packed with stories and faces. The traces of those I've met, the places I've been, not trophies, but echoes of lives intersecting. Travel is not escape but a return, a journey towards understanding. In every stranger's face, a reflection, in every foreign word, a song. No destination is final, each step is both an end and a beginning. I am a Passenger Princess, my kingdom lies in the spaces between.
