Monday, November 20, 2006

12:05 at Westminster University.

On the tube from Northwick Park

'Ka chum bum bum bum, ka chum bum bum bum.'

A dull combination of red, grey and blue hurtles towards an unknown destination. Ka chum bum bum ka chum bum bum. A metallic worm making tunnels in the heart of the city.

'Bruuuum 'it complains, the train set’s off. Bodies are thrown towards the wall. ‘That happens every bladee time.’

The windows show a blur of shapes, whizzing past.

“I can’t really remembah…yah I can’t really remembah.”

Rustle; rustle of a lime plastic bag talking to itself.

A woman chewing on gum like a cow. Rustle, rustle as she leaves.

The train’s stomach rumbles as it stops, waiting to eat more of it’s willing victims.

'Chh, chh chhhhh shooooooooo.' A man with earphones on. His head is involuntarily jiving.

'Whoooosh' into a black hole, the eternity of London lost for a seconds at a time.

'Da dad a dum da dum.'

Faces stare back at themselves in the black windows. The dull ache of the colours in the train straining themselves, pushing themselves into the eye.

‘HUMPH’ as someone exhales angrily, “I down’t now Jake, I down’t now…” He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.

Heavy Head’s droop downward, gravity pulling them towards the pigmented speckled floor. Like London has always been dragging them downwards.

The speckles look like ants, staring back at the people looking down at them, glaring up their noses.

A million or more triangles populate the seats, pieces of a puzzle that has not been solved yet.

Outside cloned houses reproduce themselves and sickly looking trees cluster together, vomiting their leaves to the ground. Telephone cables stretch their wired fingers towards one another . Connected in a way that no one in the tube is.

Silence, bum bum ka chum, silence ka chum ba bum bum bum.

The doors screeeeeam as they open, people leave. Entering into new worlds, new lives.

The journey is punctuated by black prison fences which keep people from escaping the tube platforms.

Men with lined faces wait with hunched backs.

'Bum bum ka chum, bum bum ka chum.'

Oh and the train has stopped.





1 comment:

Chris Horrie said...

This is good it paints a pciture very well - HEnry James I think said that the written page produced more pictures in the minds of people than any painting...