simplism

I'm on a bus on my way to meet someone, a girl I’m hot for, to go to a concert. The bus is empty but for a small group of young women, excitedly chatting and tipsy from pre-drinks, and a nice, cute blonde girl takes an interest in me, and while I seem to succeed, from my point of view, in impressing her, as if the concert that I’m going to reflects well on me, while feigning indifference, looking towards the front of the bus to see where we are, narrow, modern CBD of a small European city, when a voice comes softly from towards the driver, last stop.

I step out as soon as the back doors open almost without saying goodbye properly, a brief wave.

I can’t find my friend where I’m supposed to wait, or perhaps realise that I should’ve invited the fun, pretty girl on the bus to come with us. I hurry into the train station to try and catch up to her, having mentioned that she and her friends were going to another music festival. I manage to get far into the station, white tiles like the Parisian station in the DVD I watch directly before sleep “Round Midnight”, without encountering a ticket turnstile, searching for faces, a normal weekend train station scene. I come to a railing looking down onto two platforms below, an inbound train pushing through at a resisted speed, all but submerged in sea water, the roof sliding under just before passing into the tunnel mouth under me, a train arriving on the parallel track from the opposite direction, the water churning confusedly, the commuters coming up the stairs normally to the side of me.

2/12/2010