In Route From the Frozen Land People move in and out. A stream, often a torrent of rivers, merging at the confluence of the mightiest elements. It is an inexhaustible movement, churned in thought and action, speech falling over the tumults of smooth pebbles to rocky boulders. Whether you’re in the smooth stillness of a calming pool, or stuck in a white mass of water tumbling upon water, you're a part of it, whether here or there, you're a part of this massive flowing river. PDX, better known in a common vernacular as Portland Airport; that maze of the elements, the churning tides of this way and that—be it small in comparison to LAX (Los Angeles International Airport) or at best LHR (London-Heathrow). There are sources moving, flowing and intermingling in a connection of bodies, emitting
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