California

Today is hazy. Unlike the past week, the temperature is actually bearable. The blue sky is covered with a filmy layer of smog, clouds and fog only magnified by the low rumblings of the incessant flow of traffic in and out of the city.
 
Concrete emits odours, odours of dry, driving, and warmth into the afternoon. And as we come over the long, concrete bridge, I can see the city materializing through the hazy sky. In this moment, strikingly, the city reminds me of California. Terra cotta roofs smattered among dusty green trees, baking in the sun.
 
Driving, I come closer and closer to the airport. Close enough that I can identify the planes as they fly low in takeoff or landing. Each one that flies over, I silently or not-so-silently beg it to "Take me with you." I can't think of any plane that I wouldn't want to be on right now. China, Sudan, Australia, San Francisco, Seattle, take me anywhere but here.
 
But alas, the planes don't stop for me. I couldn't afford them anyways. I will just have to wait until the time comes, when I can escape.