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?
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!