It’s 3:34 am. My stomach is growling. It’s pitch black and silent, except for the freezer whirring. It feels like the whole city is rising and falling from the inhales and exhales of people’s slumber. The reel of events from the past 24 hrs is finally catching up with me: a night bus from Mandalay to Yangon, a short plane ride to Kuala Lumpur, dinner eaten by hand with a friend, the blue mosque in Istanbul, seeing my mother for the first time in a year. I feel like I’m the only one here, while everyone else is catching Z’s in their dreamworld.
I have always loved these hours which jet lag brings. My mind is clear and I feel free, unbound to any timezone (yet). My superpower has returned. Lying awake on my brother’s couch, I feel invisible, like I can get away with things.