2. Den

Beijing airport. I’m dying for a smoke and am pleasantly surprised to find a room there specifically for doing such a thing. People are everywhere, but they are not rushing about as they would do in an airport like Heathrow. The collective are primarily static. Sitting around observing each other, or standing still in a group of other people standing still.

The smoking room is a windowless den drenched in smoke. The people, all men of course, stare questioningly at me as I enter. They are very much interested in my presence for about a minute, and this minor interest subsides as they recall the cigarettes they must conclude. One man doesn’t lose interest and sits transfixed for some time until the long ash drops. He lights another, and sits transfixed once again until the long ash drops once again.

The room is so thick with smoke that I begin to feel a little sick. I put the cigarette out and decide to smoke in a doorway next time if I can fucking find one, the fuck.