Leaving Hong Kong for my first trip overseas in over two years was somewhat unusual. The airport was empty. I walked towards my departure gate. It was set at the farthest node of the terminal like some secret gangrenous embarrassment. Upgrades were evident along the way.
The colourful Covid-19-hugging fabric seats had been replaced with bland wipe-down hard plastic grey. Angular work spaces with charging points had sprung up. And fresh water dispensing areas were sprouting. Hurrah.
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