our continuous passage of time gathers and quickens at the train station. stuck to the suburb labelled seat, we watch them fly pass, travelling at the speed of our disposition. they leave us behind, wiping our initial unease of our surroundings clean. the atmosphere is lively as the hustle and bustle of moving minds and bodies stir the dead existence that the station brings. we can feel this, the movement of the top layer of stories that each train traveller has left behind. they float into the air and land upon the shoulders of the people, awaking them from their silent slumber. they now are part of the train allot.
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