Thursday, May 5, 2011



People standing at the grey station, looking at their watches, smoking their last cigarettes, waiting anxiously, hoping for something never to come. The speakers greet the shadows of the people with depressed announcements from a voice so mechanical that it's not even possible a human has originally made that sound. The air is cold and you just want to get back in but you know you can't. You check your watch for the third time in the last five minutes, or was it just four? Time has made an objection to proceed. It lingers and you have done various tricks to pass your time more efficiently. You've counted the dirty tiles under your feet, you've tried closing your eyes and opening them again to see the train at the horizon, you've tried humming songs inside your head to make the time go faster. None of this has worked and you're still left with only yourself and excruciating minutes to spend.

What is time anyways? Is it just there to make us feel like we're endlessly at the station?

A distant sound. You've been lost in your thoughts for ages (just 30 seconds), only God knows how long. You reveal your hazy eyes from under this veil of thoughts and manage to hear the sound with your eyes. Your ears aren't there yet but your eyes know what they want to see, so they hear it too. You check your watch for the final time, could it be? The sound isn't just a sound anymore. It has transformed into a world of colors, which you hold on your back. (The world is heavy but with the pidgeons flying around it, it feels quite light.) You look into the direction of the sound. Hallucinations are for the weary but you're as strong as ever. It's there.

Or is time there just to make us feel like we've waited for nothing? Or for everything?

The piece of old metal, the humongous body of the train halts in front of your eyes. Your eyes start gleaming and wildly looking at every doorway there is. There are obviously too many of them. It's not fair. You have only two eyes and every single one of those doorways could open and reveal what you've been waiting for your whole life, or the half an hour you've spent at the station? The doors open and it feels like it's all happening in slow motion. You're almost bound to check your watch again, even though the final time of doing so happened two eternies ago. How can people be so slow? Exit the train, faster, run if you have to. Just let me see.

Can we see time? Is waiting the moment when we see time? Or do we see time when there's nothing else?

You can see now. Your face lightens up and your heart seems to explode without you even noticing the whole event inside your body. Your every muscle is tense and you mouth has taken a firm position in an upwards curve, revealing a row of shining teeth. (Did I wash them this morning?) If you could, you would jump a couple of meters in the air and shout from the bottom of your lungs. You're not dreaming, even though it feels like it. It's all happening for real. You spread your arms and wait with a smile on your face, which will stay there for all eternity, and longer if possible.

The train will arrive, the train will wait for you and the station will always be there. Some things, time will never change. 

.i won't cross these streets until you hold my hand.

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