Hello from Heathrow


At the Harry Potter store

Some people think I am experienced jet-setter. They’re quite wrong. It’s only the route Hamburg-Stockholm and Düsseldorf-Berlin that I can do in my sleep. But today as I make the journey across the pond, I – at least inwardly – seem more like a provincial person. I am the one who marvels at the size of Heathrow where I have a stop over, the one who strolls through the shops and gazes at all the exquisite things offered at Harrod’s and the Harry Potter store. I am the one rejoices in seeing all the diversity that, despite being a relatively international city, Dizzel does not have: Orthodox Jews putting their hats back on after security, Indian children swirling around with turbans at Boots or an American reading from her Bible before boarding.

O lands! O all so dear to me – what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is. (Walt Whitman)


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