Tag Archives: window

trains

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on a train. and it’s not good. there are two indian guys sitting in front of me and one of them is so sweaty it’s making him uncomfortable. the controller wants to see my ticket, I show it to him and fall asleep right away with the wallet open in my hand. I don’t know why I’m on this train, I wish life could be easier. I used to like trains but right now I find the whole thing exhausting. and the fact that everything I do lately seems wrong right after it’s done is not helping. dirty seats. the confused mix of colors of the landscape running fast out the window. things you try to catch with your eyes but slip away so quick. I went to the toilette and when I looked at my face in the mirror I realized I had this big smear of ketchup right under my mouth. I have fat lips. I should definitely shave and under my eyes I’m reaching darker shades of black for the lack of sleep. noise. I go back to my seat and the two indians have been replaced by a dad with his teenage daughter. the girl is telling him he looks grumpy and he has a look in his face that’s saying I really wish you’d shut up. the man is trying very hard to be nice. I want to tell him I wouldn’t mind if this train was empty too. I don’t even enjoy observing people anymore, which, so far in my life, has been my most successful activity. rail tracks running fast. parallels that never leave you. people trying to get a seat. anxious to find a safe place for their bags. fixing their make up. hypnotized by their smartphones. when I get off the train I feel dirty and think that I really need a shower. now that I’m touching the ground I’m not any less confused. trains used to take me to places, and while I was on them, I used to not care about where I was coming from and what was up next. I call a friend of mine just because I need to hear a familiar voice. I wish she’d notice that I have tears in my eyes and she’d ask me what’s wrong but on the phone my voice doesn’t sound broken enough. I hang up and don’t feel any less alone. I used to chase the temporality of a trip on a train. that state of mind where I wouldn’t worry about things and I wouldn’t worry about not being worried. now things have changed and I’ll be thirty soon and trains aren’t enough but I’m not a grown up either. for a second I wonder if all of this makes sense and then I laugh at myself for thinking that. I get on the tube and I’m so tired I can’t stop stroking my forehead. probably everyone else can see that I’ve definitely had enough public transportation for today. I realize that trains and stations and people still make me emotional, though. probably for the wrong reasons and certainly not out of a sense of stability and self fulfillment. but still emotional.

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chronicle of a dead pigeon

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it’s been on the roof of the building facing my kitchen window for over a week. it’s a dead pigeon. when I first saw it I was kind of grossed out. I don’t like dead animals but then, who does? I’ve been walking back and forth from my room to the kitchen, aimless, just waiting for the little corpse to change position. I don’t leave my apartment much lately. mainly because I don’t feel like it. scrolling down on the facebook page and staring at the pigeon have been my main activities. after a couple of days from when i first saw it, it moved a few meters on the right. and there where white puffy feathers that looked like snowflakes everywhere. a part of me found it romantic. I’ve been thinking about this guy lately. somebody I couldn’t have. i actually thought he was out of my mind, gone for good, but he was only hidden somewhere in the back of my head. I wondered how long it would take for the dead pigeon to disappear. nobody is going to remove it from the roof and it could take a couple of months before it rots away. but the wind may do the job earlier. little parts of it though, little bones, will probably resist for a while, I thought. even in a few years, little traces of its presence may still be noticed, if you look carefully. the same way somebody who really mattered never actually leaves. even if what’s left is nothing but an annoying reminder of the days you spent trying to get him out of your head. trying to feel better without being actually sick. hoping that a painkiller could resolve the problem or pressing a button would automatically erase the thought of him.

I finally went out for a run the other day and realized I didn’t pay any attention to the pigeon for almost 24 hours and rushed back home. when I saw it, the pigeon looked as if it had been turned inside out. I could only tell it was a pigeon because I knew, otherwise it would’ve been an unidentified bird. I see the guy ¬†and realize how I’ve never been able to figure him out. I know, if I’ve been there and felt that way, there must be a reason. but right now I’m just observing a dead animal. I might as well go out and wait for the wind to do the job.

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