I'm sitting on a train heading South. The chair is uncomfortable and creaks when I move around. In the air is a faintly stale aroma that permeates my clothes and belongings. The picture on the window makes me think of Bill Murray and Dan Ackroyd.
When I look out the window, I see the suck of air from the carriages ahead fighting against a strong headwind. The sun is starting to get higher in the sky, and peers squinting through a break in the clouds.
The trees outside are starting to disappear, being gradually replaced by a vast, threatening expanse of square corners and tarmac brutality, the red bricks of the buildings by the track giving way to giant sheets of tinted glass, in which I catch the reflection of tired eyes. On the horizon ahead looms the choking smog of metropolitan isolation.
The train slows and I get off, but this is not my final destination. I'm just waiting for my next connection.
When I look out the window, I see the suck of air from the carriages ahead fighting against a strong headwind. The sun is starting to get higher in the sky, and peers squinting through a break in the clouds.
The trees outside are starting to disappear, being gradually replaced by a vast, threatening expanse of square corners and tarmac brutality, the red bricks of the buildings by the track giving way to giant sheets of tinted glass, in which I catch the reflection of tired eyes. On the horizon ahead looms the choking smog of metropolitan isolation.
The train slows and I get off, but this is not my final destination. I'm just waiting for my next connection.
1 comment:
i like zis post! it pleases me!
Post a Comment