The natural light which shines upon the glistening of the auburn
color leaves pierces in the midst of the bluest of skies with a
metalic of cable lines cuts through the horizontal panes of the tinted windows. The sounds of the whimper of metal on metal pierce from
the ground at our feet. The rim of the bay just ever so slightly appearing that our travel is coasting along the tops of the water not displaying
the carefully driven carts which drapes along the wooden bridge beneath.
For many the destination is set for myself an unknown passage to a future which is not quite defined.
The Bones in my back shift with each tilt and jolt of balance needed to progress. This voyage that is yet to be conquered. A pause in thought. A chill from the morning pressed on these bony fragile fingertips as they manage to muster the scenes of a venture not judged but observed.
A story could be told by the images placed on the skin of the body of a middle age man sitting aside. The tattoos of a story of stranger are not to be muttered with disgust as many generations before may have assumed. Here lies a story unbeknown to the outside of places traveled, emotions startled and passions felt. In admiration I see the tasteful display of images scattered throughout where the cloth would preserve all the most intimate thoughts to be locked away.
There is a mild manner amongst this that cannot be stereotyped to the rage of what might be construed as an untamed demonic character from the hells of a world beneath. Should the dawn of the morning shed an angelic view that would not have been so easily identified had it been the midnight express on a cold dreary night. Do the markings of those engraved on the palest of pigment alter the soul of one who is unmarked with even the slightest blemish.
Like the stained glass of a cathedral set forth in the abbeys of London do we not see the beauty of a faith that touches a soul that cannot be seen but from our faith. The windows of our own soul cannot always be seen or touched but the images across our skin can be viewed as a reminder of pain felt, happiness experienced and moments of solitude that only our faith can understand. It was not until I myself could find solitude in these forms of expressions and preservation do I know understand the journeys that have been taken.
The destination never just being an “end all be all” serves as the hub, a collection of people gathered to enter or exit crossing paths in multiple directions. A pleather of bodies gathered for the soul purpose to transport from one space to the next.
Muting the sounds which transpire as I lean up against at the solid concrete post with views of several gateways to destinations, I am distracted with the words of an artist which plays in the background. “As long as we have love.” The movement of my eyes which gaze across a transcendental shuffling of bodies at an aggressive rate, I can only simulate in my mind the thoughts and words that are muttered between those in the distance by boldly conjuring up the what transpired moments before their arrival and lies ahead.
My interest is not to consume the trials and tribulations of strangers but embrace the opportunities of the diversity fancying an epic antidote. An erudition of collective observations within an environment. One can certainly discern the variety that each hub exposes lends to a theatrical display of human interactions. Embracing without ascertaining judgement, without provocation, is to embrace those within society.
Should there be no visibility known, a blind eye, a challenge to observe without preconceived notions that only the chatter of a dialect or enunciation discerns the existing environment from another.
With a single encounter, a skewed view presented by the appearance of the swarm assembled. With a stream of people destined to find their platforms of intentions they rest within the confines of their comforts either through their own means or those that they have congregated with.
Through the horizontal panes the pitch black darkness brings the reflections of passengers and the carrying of the vociferous sounds in parallel with the metal grinding, door latches shifting with each sway of the rail. Small saucer like lamp posts line the roads which run parallel to our arrival to our destination. The tattoos of the young man had dissipated only to serve an attractive installment to fuse my thoughts.