A testament to the travels, and legitimizing of knapsacks and lagging briefcases.
Arms crunch rolled papers, and outer ears (of those courteous) shuffle down for a courtesy.
Arms twinkle to the hands, the hands twinkle to the head, and the head loosens the fingertips.
Three dozen flip books sound, each flickering to the designated bookmarkings, telephone cards. A knocked gaze opens the flat flat border. Large unfortunates led to another walled border, absent of any verbality, or a keyhole peep. Simply left were defeated looks, covering all degrees of the surrounding and pinned foreigners, all welcome to the same speculation of, speculation.
Of course this wouldn't end in exile, they all made it. Victory like butter.
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