Overview

There is a particular kind of loneliness that belongs only to airports. Not the loneliness of an empty room or a quiet Sunday, but something more alive, more restless - the loneliness of a person surrounded by thousands of other people, each of them mid-sentence in the story of their own life. The pieces collected here are decidedly not light reading. One imagines the ordinary human noise aboard a flight that would not reach its destination. Another follows a man to a river, carrying his father's bones and ashes in a bag, trying to understand what it means to complete a life on someone else's behalf. Loss moves through these pages the way weather moves through a mountain range: it shapes everything, even when you cannot see it directly. These are stories about what we carry. And, sometimes, about the lightness of putting it down.

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