Air-Ports. Ports. Ports to anywhere. 12 hours waiting in a port. So many destinations. Take any plane and go to a certain anywhere. Whatever anywhere. Announcements for Latin America, for North America, Europe, Caribbean, unknown places, unknown for you, known for others. You are going to one of them. But for now you are there. Alone. For 12 hours. Watching, listening, whistling, singing, taking pictures. Left a whole one-semester-experience behind. Can't sleep on the benches because they are made to prevent people who need sleep from sleeping there. Looking for a spot to immortalize the image of the sunset. Ending up at the 6th floor of a parking lot. In a nonsense city called Miami. On your way to La Paz- Bolivia. Realize that Miami has actually a raison d'être: being a port for elsewhere.