Matt Feldman Photography
The terminal end of Terminal 2E at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport.
Stone, sky and vapour. Midday on the streets of Cannes.
I don’t know when they disappeared, exactly. I suppose it’s been a few years. But from my earliest memories of flying, a clear standout wasn’t the sharp acceleration of takeoff, the strangely clogged and popping ears, or emerging into a gleaming orange sunset after climbing above dense clouds. It came via the speaker system.
An abandoned newspaper in a boarding area of Chinggis Khaan International, as passengers wait (and wait) to depart for Dalanzadgad.
It was a good introduction. I arrived in Poznan, Poland, by train from Berlin and after a day of travel originating at 3 am in Istanbul, Turkey, I needed food. Polish “milk bars” define no-frills eating, as if your high school cafeteria was redesigned without all that fancy decor.