The luggage in his hand was French sky blue,
"They won't mistake it for their own," his mum had said, "Trust me, black is pretty plain."
It was her with him at the airport,
It was okay, dad would've come to collect him at the arrival. Today he couldn't have come anyway.

Tourists all around speaking thousands of languages,
"I'm going mad," he said, "I hear just Italians",
then he got on board, waved mum goodbye,
"kiss the cats" he called, the plane took off and he met new eyes.

Other kids were there, he loved the kind of embarrassment the others had in moments like that. He was okay with talking to strangers.
Charming, he passed his hand through his hair.
It was easy.

"Hey" he said to a guy. He was taller, his skin was as dark as tanned leather, and his hair was shaved.
The guy grinned slowly, showing rows of straight white teeth. He was the kind you would keep away from, but on a holiday he just seemed
And they became friends, easy as it is.

They arrived in Ireland. The sky was beautiful.
The baggage carousel spun, a constant...