I’m always fascinated by the trains that rumble over the Styx Creek bridge. Sometimes the people look down at me looking up at them and I wonder what they’re thinking about me as I think about them. Who are they? Where are they going? Why? What are their stories?
In winter I tend to get down the creek later in the day and often find myself in the not-quite darkness of the city’s post-dusk period. The trains at this time are lit up like TV screens, each window its own little world.
Who are you? Where are you going? Do you see me?
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Thanks for a new word, “kerning”, earlier this month. I’ll try to use it in scrabble soon.
Rebec.
A triple word score with that would be useful!