By this really cold january evening, the station platform is packed with people, not unusual for a Friday night. The quay is frozen in places, but also damaged by the thousands of people who use it every day. In the middle of this huge crowd, I feel oppressed. With my short height, I don’t even see the train information, I’m just surrounded by backpacks. Some people are chatting with their friends, others are running to find a place between that mob, and I’m here, looking forward to go back to my hometown for the week-end.
There is a sort of explosion of smells, coming in from all sides, one really unpleasant, from the people smoking, one coming from the numerous comforting coffees, after a hard day of work, but there is also this smell we always find in a station, that might come from the train rails, or from the train itself, that gives to this place its special atmosphere. To accompany those smells, the constant buzz of conversation is often interrupted the noise caused by passing trains and the many whistles from ticket inspectors. And it outperforms my headphones music.
But to keep calm and relax, I turn up the sound of my headphones, and just admire the horizon, where the train tracks disappear into the landscape, into nature, under the sunset. I imagine where they’re going, and when they could transport me.