Thursday, July 14, 2005
Time and space warp in ever-growing concentric ripplets around the cylinder of the carriage. I perceive visions of shared memories past in the surreal interface of past and present within those ripples. Hallucinations? Perhaps. But I choose to think not.
I watch darkened etchings on the walls speeding hastily past from the comfort of an orange seat in the whitish cylinder. And I looked up from my phone, where your words echod out:
See you there in five minutes, outside the station.
I looked up into the reflections upon the window opposite, as though I could see you. But surely I was feeling hasty. After all, what is five minutes compared to these many months.

