There's a certain romantic quality that trains have. Trains are a
certain representation of how we view the world, tracks are only
visible for so long until they bend into the wood. Our destiny rides
on a path that we can only see for a brief glimpse until at the mercy
of time we view bit by bit, more by more where our pathway leads to.
The world has grown out of the age of locomotion where there were no
decisions to be made, but sometimes the tracks take you where they
want you to go, with people who have nothing in common with you except
for the destination that you share. There's a certain beauty in the
rumble of the Underground as it jostles off into the black tunnel. The
stale smell of rubber and oil fill the station as a gust of wind
heralds the arrival of the carriage. The identical tiles whirl past as
the darkness fills the windows. Everyone is silent as unheard
conversations are exchanged. A glance here, a nod there, a frown as
the symphony of sound envelopes the car. The equilibrium shifts as the
car slows, the brakes whistle, the world becomes finely focused once
again, the doors click and then hiss as they fold away. As passengers
leave a woman on the PA repeats, "Mind the Gap." Yes, indeed...mind
the gap.