Non-fiction

In Japan, torii are traditional gates shaped a bit like a character from the Japanese alphabet, with two vertical pillars intersected at the top by two horizontal beams that stick out slightly on either side, the way the horns on a samurai’s helmet might. They are used to mark the entrance to shrines that beseech you to pay attention, like a pylon you might find next to an open manhole. Each one symbolises a transition from the trivialities of the world we know towards something more sacred. 

Since learning this, I like to think of the metal detectors at airport security as airport torii. Only when I have passed their test do I feel like my journey has truly begun. Any expectation of home or familiarity has been left on the Arrivals side with the check-in counters and taxi queues. On the Departures side, I enter a state of receptiveness, becoming a lightning rod for novelty, inspiration, and epiphany.