Matters of the heart
The train station breathes tension, rush and relief as the clock nears 5.00 p.m. There I was, caught in the centre of what seemed to me like a rush hour hurricane. Women in black leather heels, men deliciously dressed in suits and tired shoppers from a fruitful shopping spree all scampering their best down the escalators as the trains started to signal their departure. Why the rush? I wondered. The next train is a mere couple minutes away.
I sat on the floor just under the escalator as I waited for my next train to arrive. The one that just departed was not stopping at my intended stop. A good excuse to ponder and watch people I suppose. Five minutes to go. I started looking around me and wondered what was on everyone's mind. Are they looking forward to something splendid that awaits them after their stop? Do they have thoughts in their minds like mine to address? Are they thinking my very thought? It's difficult to judge. Everyone seems to blend very well together here. We are all just train passengers. All with nothing but intentions of going from point A to point B. Yet all with different matters of the heart.
I sat on the floor just under the escalator as I waited for my next train to arrive. The one that just departed was not stopping at my intended stop. A good excuse to ponder and watch people I suppose. Five minutes to go. I started looking around me and wondered what was on everyone's mind. Are they looking forward to something splendid that awaits them after their stop? Do they have thoughts in their minds like mine to address? Are they thinking my very thought? It's difficult to judge. Everyone seems to blend very well together here. We are all just train passengers. All with nothing but intentions of going from point A to point B. Yet all with different matters of the heart.
