= FOUR =
Black coat and white gloves garnish someone who has long forgotten her own pride. The evident stain across her waist denounces her lack of care, of, perhaps, self-love.
I wonder if life has turned its back on her as much as she seems to have turned hers on life. I wonder if anyone notices her, or if all they see is that hideous stain.
She's heading back home after a long day. Her sad eyes drift away into infinity as her mind revisits that secret place where she forgot what the meaning of happy was. She knows her ride will soon be over.
She senses the motion of the train indicating its next stop and clenches her fist so to have a better grip of her pretty handbag. Red.
Off she goes. All darkness around her red redemption: the last sign of the woman she once was.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Monday, February 16, 2015
Sliding doors - the subway chronicles
= THREE =
Fried food. It is the smell that invades my nostrils every breath I take. Contrary to obvious conclusions, I am on the subway going home, not in a greasy joint around any corner.
The commute is short, but sometimes made unbearable by odours and crowds. The space is scarce and my figure does need some weight-losing. As I scrabble these thoughts, my mind drifts to far away, to a place where all is perfection; space is enough; people are clean and smelts are pleasant.
Well, just as I finish the sentence, a strong smell of urine rises up and nauseated my already fragile stomach.
Yep, as much as I enjoy the freedom the transit system provides, I can't help but feel certain discomfort at times.
Time is up. Gotta get of here. For today it is over.
Fried food. It is the smell that invades my nostrils every breath I take. Contrary to obvious conclusions, I am on the subway going home, not in a greasy joint around any corner.
The commute is short, but sometimes made unbearable by odours and crowds. The space is scarce and my figure does need some weight-losing. As I scrabble these thoughts, my mind drifts to far away, to a place where all is perfection; space is enough; people are clean and smelts are pleasant.
Well, just as I finish the sentence, a strong smell of urine rises up and nauseated my already fragile stomach.
Yep, as much as I enjoy the freedom the transit system provides, I can't help but feel certain discomfort at times.
Time is up. Gotta get of here. For today it is over.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Sliding doors - the subway chronicles
= TWO =
Outside is freezing, literally. My skin is still hurting.
As the doors of the train open and I find myself a seat, the warm air is not enough to break the cold spell of winter.
A familiar face smiles at me and I reply with a smile, and a wave. We are both not up for a chat, so we silently thank our headphones for being in place, and dive into our own businesses.
My limbs slowly regain blood flow and tact. I realize my feet are sore and somewhat cold. My face is burning, possibly still recovering from the wind chill of -35.
As my final destination approaches, I try to decide whether I can cope with another ten-minute walk or I'd better take the bus. I dread the bus, I try to reserved it for the extreme cases, and then I realize this is an extreme situation. Should I?
Doors open; I seize my chance. The bus it is.
Outside is freezing, literally. My skin is still hurting.
As the doors of the train open and I find myself a seat, the warm air is not enough to break the cold spell of winter.
A familiar face smiles at me and I reply with a smile, and a wave. We are both not up for a chat, so we silently thank our headphones for being in place, and dive into our own businesses.
My limbs slowly regain blood flow and tact. I realize my feet are sore and somewhat cold. My face is burning, possibly still recovering from the wind chill of -35.
As my final destination approaches, I try to decide whether I can cope with another ten-minute walk or I'd better take the bus. I dread the bus, I try to reserved it for the extreme cases, and then I realize this is an extreme situation. Should I?
Doors open; I seize my chance. The bus it is.
Sliding doors - the subway chronicles
= ONE =
Hours. Some mechanical problem southbound was holding up trains, and what takes minutes, felt like hours.
Tired faces surround me, half-awake characters flocking together on their way to work or school. Mornings are never gentle on anyone, especially when they are freezing cold, when they feel like 38 below.
I usually prefer to stand when the subway is crowded, I am, thus, able to secure some personal space. However, some people seem to enjoy extreme closeness.
Time to get off, at last, at a long last!
Hours. Some mechanical problem southbound was holding up trains, and what takes minutes, felt like hours.
Tired faces surround me, half-awake characters flocking together on their way to work or school. Mornings are never gentle on anyone, especially when they are freezing cold, when they feel like 38 below.
I usually prefer to stand when the subway is crowded, I am, thus, able to secure some personal space. However, some people seem to enjoy extreme closeness.
Time to get off, at last, at a long last!
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