It is a strange thing to see the board, as your train pulls into the station, lit up with the same place you departed not 50 minutes ago. A train to return to its origin, my home, a name glowing white like some false beacon echoing from the future. My destination, my transportation, in a mere 9 hours time. A taunt, a challenge, the futility of another day. Why not stay? Why not win early? Why not head home while the sun is still in the sky? (Somewhere, behind that grey winter haze). The afternoon rush beaten. Not to stand but seat-ed. No post work madness, gladness, dullness, soreness. To enjoy the passing scenery. To play with my dogs that will be there to greet me, if they were not asleep. Dreaming of a walk tomorrow. Before I go to work tomorrow. Before I catch a train tomorrow. And do it all again.
I’ve been considering a future in film making. I’m not sure I have what it takes for high functioning auterism. I’m certainly on the spectrum though.
A sailor tried to sell me a ship with a broken mast
Skirt people, Pant people & Daleks
Bob! Lookout! Nooo!…
Can we fix it? …no, probably not.
That kid in the background knows what’s up.
Spoiler: They kill people
My only friend