"Let's get lunch."
Lock door. Hold hands. Walk, walk, walk.
Closed. Sigh. Hold hands. Walk, walk, walk.
Finally. Pay. Eat. Leave. Hold hands. Walk, walk
Newton's third law. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Sometimes a thing catches your eye and spurs some unexpected thoughts. Like how the fundamental story of infrastructure is, really, movement. It's the duality of creating and resisting movement. Of creating a foundation that helps other things to move or to stay still.
But sometimes the story of infrastructure is also the duality of leaving one place to be in another. Of saying goodbye so you can say hello.
Sit. Drive. Walk. Search. Walk. Board. Sit. Wait.
It seems fruitless to try to define infrastructure. In a way, it's all relative. Is a plane wing "infrastructure," or is the infrastructure the plane itself? Is the plane infrastructure, or is it the transportation system that shuffles people and things along to where they need to go? Is a plane without an airport still infrastructure?
So many questions pop up in passing, but then fade as the prompt drifts back out of sight.
Whisper. Roar. Buzz. Lift. Level. Whisper.
So many of our hellos and goodbyes are facilitated by our infrastructure. The world definitely feels smaller than it once did, but at the same time, it feels like we also spend more time in passing.
Is this goodbye again?
Yes, but only for now.
Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Sleep? No. Sit.
The details of how infrastructure works are often fascinating. The gap between each goodbye and subsequent hello is often accompanied by the ever-present working of the things that hide in plain sight.