I couldn’t stop staring at the man across the aisle on the bench. He was waiting for someone in his best outfit, you could tell. It just so happened that the best outfit he had was an oil-stained jumpsuit. It was sweet, in a way.
I was sitting there at the train station and glanced over to the girl sitting on the bench on the other side. She looked as if she wasn’t sure where she was going. I wouldn’t get involved in something possibly complicated.
de metro. je suis perdue. je vois quelqu’un de loin, les cheveux sur les lunettes, c’est sexy. un regard penetrant je me dis que j’ai envie de sourire. puis le vent ramasse mes cheveux. et je m’engouffre dans le metro qui vient. je regarde par la vitre: tout est loin, les gens, et moi.
et le reste n’est plus a moi. je devrais plutot me dire que tout nous file entre les doigts. mais cette station, c’est comme une ile, un pays, des gens sans rames, qui flottent trop et se cherchent sans trop se regarder. j’ai envie d’y planter un drapeau, entre deux destinations. je voudrais. j’enfonce mes mains dans mon treillis kaki. je sens mes coudes. je pleure. peut-etre que je pleure. oui.
sibylle
Time at the station passed slowly. The buildings creaked with age and the people passed one another without a second glance. For many it was a daily routine, for others it was a rare occasion to see what life was like outside of their usual habitations. Life was simple in this town.
Alice Walker
I always just want to leave while I am at the station. Instead, i sit here, transfixed by the hurry of those who do leave and the relief of those arriving. If only i could find a way to board and leave this place. This place where things never change, where i am always mired in some sort of regret.
RuthAnn
Jeeves never questioned his station in life; one ordained from the moment he was christened with the knid of name that made it superflouous to argue whether he would ever follow his father and become Mr. Wooster’s personal gentleman’s gentleman.
Wildewood
At the bus station, I was anxiously waiting for him. I was wondering if he would show up or not. After the conversation we’d had the night before, my heart was telling me he would. Why was I worrying so much? Was it because of the past? The past being too present, still? Was I ready for this? And then I saw his face peep through the crowd and realized I’ve never been more ready.
ana
there was a station where I last saw you. I remember that sweet smile on your face. I hope you remember me too. I would jump on any train just to get to you.
Anabel
station. where is your station. that’s a lyric somewhere. carl is stationed in korea. he’s been to canada. canada is the only place i’ve been out of country. at least i’ve been out of town, i tell myself. … remember playstation? i don’t know many people who have an updated playstation system.
Tyler
I was standing at the station waiting for ever.. for what seemed like forever.. and waiting for what? I don’t think there was even anyone I knew coming in on the train that day, except for maybe a couple of acquaintances from town. And yet there I stood, waiting as though I was desperately awaiting an arrival.
Cal
Everytime I say goodbye to my family at the station, I get sad.
sera
“I think you are acting above your station” said the man with the monacle. I looked at him with contempt. “Who the hell are you to judge me?” I asked
i like the colour purple cos it’s so sweet and mild. station, stationary.
jiayu
A ticket to nowhere. Which station will you get off on? You can never go backwards.
mimi
It’s never the same. The memories you have of a rural train station when you’re young – the platform is so wide, with lots of interesting people milling about. I remember as a child seeing a coin on the train track. Mum was momentarily distracted and I simply jumped down onto the tracks, oblivious of the time or whether a train was not far away. I was so focused on my wonderful find! I collected the coin, climbed back onto the platform to find my mum reaching for me with panic in her eyes. The train was only minutes away. Amongst the stern talking to that my mum gave me, I was feeling very happy with myself. I had picked up a 50 Lira coin! Something I’d never seen before, living in regional Australia.
Dayle Morrison
the train station, the police station, stationary wherever I stand. Waiting for the train or policeman to return stationary. Which ever station this is I hope that the train doesn’t arrive in the middle of the wrong one.
In combination with another word (that word being “train”), and you’ll find yourself in one of the best places every city has to offer. The promise of adventure on rail. Strangers on a train.
tom remmers
The music is flowing into my body, in and out, along with the beat. The song ends and another comes on. I am amazed at the switch that is flicked on inside as the energy bubbles up to my surface. I can’t use the proper words to express party rockin’ in the house and so I’ll every day I’m shuffelin’. .
a place where people congregate from one place, to go to another place. a place gone to not as a destination, but rather, as a place for transit. it is the place where goodbyes and hellos are said. a place of sorrows and happiness.
siying
We sat at the station, waiting for trains. 8 hours, and not a single train went our way. but that’s not what matters. The people in the station made our day.
Issy
I arrived at two thirty in the morning. The station was dark and foggy. I had no idea where to go from here. Everything I had was now in the past. All I was left with were the clothes on my back and the future in front of me.
Alix Kreder
she was standing at the station, red hair blowing over her face, the bustling crowd billowing around her as she watched, silently, for her train. the red light in the distance switched to green, instantly animating the crowd more than before, people stood up, grabbing bags, children and tickets, ready to board.
kate
cuando estaba en la estacion vi a un viejito, me pidio 30 centavos, se los di porque me dio mucha pena. resulta que 10 centavos le debia al colectivero y el resto pago un cortadito en el bar de la estacion. cuanta gente como esa se ve todos los dias, pobre, cuanta gente.
patricia lorentz
trains chugging noisily, smoke everywhere in the sky, clouding visions, confusion, being lost and stuck, journeys both real and imaginary, dreams of travel, stuck on one path on the train, unable to change your way, station’s being homes for those without homes, tramps, bums, beggars, wanting to move on but unable to, trapped
Louise
The sun spills through the foggy glass in the train terminal. A warm stagnate heat floats in the tiny station room. There is one lonely passenger sitting silently in the seat near the door, allowing a small breeze to caress her hair. Her gaze is transfixed on the landscape beyond the station. vibrant green wisplike grass and pale blue water. The rain the past couple of days gave enough water that there were little creeks and ponds on and around the rusty train tracks.
I saw the man at the station. He was standing to the side of the tram runway, almost hiding from the on coming busle of people and crowds. He was faciciously garbed in simple clothes, but I could tell by the way he leaned on the pole and in the way he held his gait, that he was a man of stature and class.
lily
The train station was crowded, especially at noon. This was when the most people were boarding and leaving and this was when the most could be seen. All of the people in the station have a story, you see, and if you look closely enough, you can see it for yourself.
Ross
a place that doesn’t move
a location that is permanent
to be put in a place for easy identification
tracysarte
I’ve been to a station before. I used to go all the time. With a good friend of mine. We would ride it the metro all the way to downtown. We would see the craziest people at the station. I always wondered what their lives were like. Some of the practically lived there – seeing as they were probably homeless. How is life when all you ever see is the metro station? You never go anywhere. Don’t see the beauty of the Grand Canyon or the Great Wall of China. Maybe they don’t know those things even exist. I guess that’d be just as us never going to a mall on another planet in one of those far away solar systems we’ll never know about. That must be great: not knowing what you’ll never know. Or maybe not. I think it’s nice knowing that there’s many things I’ll never learn, never see, never do. I guess it helps me appreciate what I have done and what I will do. This is what stations have taught me.
David Martin
una estación de tren donde la gente se despedia y las maletas se subian. Mientras el tiempo corria y la gente llegaba tarde, y así ella persió el tren. y se tuvo que quedar en tierra. Y nunca llegó a su destino
iria
Theres a station down the street from my grandmother’s house…well I think Its a station or it used to be. Now its like an empty lot. All I know is it looks creepy and the train passes by it every day. I
I am waiting at the train station, soaking wet from the rain and from crying. He told me he would come but but didn’t showed up. I was lonely and I looked forlorn. I never stepped in the train station after that, not even a glance.
petals on a wet, black bough. the poetry of metro stations. stationary. still. stillness. light. love. green. coming
Courtney
The bus station. People. Bags. Children’s screams. Conductor’s whistles blow. All looking for something. All wanting to go somewhere. All longing for some satisfaction. All full of dreams and hopes. All restless. All chaos.
Karla
I love mrt stations because they are where people meet and go and come together. and I will always remember the sticky heat how I’m always perspiring deep quick fast swift rivulets down my spine while waiting for the train and then when the doors open and I stalk inside i always feel self-conscious of the people looking at how sweaty i am and i wonder if they would just avert their eyes, avert their eyes.
I’m at the train station, and before i got here i was at the bus stop on my way to school, and that’s when i seen you.
brea
I was at the station an hour ago and I thought, maybe the reason why we wait for the train to go by is we have a serious problem with dealing with the inevitable. Things happen for a reason, and we can’t just station ourselves in one place for the rest of our lives. We won’t grow up, and the only way to grow up is to let go.
Jemimah
When we pulled out of the bus station that cold December morning, we knew that we were never coming back to this town. Even after all we had been through, we were a little sad knowing that we could never come home again.
Chris Owen
I’ll meet you a the station you said to me
I am waiting here so very patiently
but when you dont arrive
I grieve
for a moment in time
and start to leave
resting each step carefully
praying
that you’ll come walking up behind me
lauren
Lrt. Santolan is where I ride and Legarda is where I go down. I take the train from Santolan everyday going to UST. It was so tiring, of course because, sometimes, there are no seats availaable.
I couldn’t stop staring at the man across the aisle on the bench. He was waiting for someone in his best outfit, you could tell. It just so happened that the best outfit he had was an oil-stained jumpsuit. It was sweet, in a way.
I was sitting there at the train station and glanced over to the girl sitting on the bench on the other side. She looked as if she wasn’t sure where she was going. I wouldn’t get involved in something possibly complicated.
de metro. je suis perdue. je vois quelqu’un de loin, les cheveux sur les lunettes, c’est sexy. un regard penetrant je me dis que j’ai envie de sourire. puis le vent ramasse mes cheveux. et je m’engouffre dans le metro qui vient. je regarde par la vitre: tout est loin, les gens, et moi.
et le reste n’est plus a moi. je devrais plutot me dire que tout nous file entre les doigts. mais cette station, c’est comme une ile, un pays, des gens sans rames, qui flottent trop et se cherchent sans trop se regarder. j’ai envie d’y planter un drapeau, entre deux destinations. je voudrais. j’enfonce mes mains dans mon treillis kaki. je sens mes coudes. je pleure. peut-etre que je pleure. oui.
Time at the station passed slowly. The buildings creaked with age and the people passed one another without a second glance. For many it was a daily routine, for others it was a rare occasion to see what life was like outside of their usual habitations. Life was simple in this town.
I always just want to leave while I am at the station. Instead, i sit here, transfixed by the hurry of those who do leave and the relief of those arriving. If only i could find a way to board and leave this place. This place where things never change, where i am always mired in some sort of regret.
Jeeves never questioned his station in life; one ordained from the moment he was christened with the knid of name that made it superflouous to argue whether he would ever follow his father and become Mr. Wooster’s personal gentleman’s gentleman.
At the bus station, I was anxiously waiting for him. I was wondering if he would show up or not. After the conversation we’d had the night before, my heart was telling me he would. Why was I worrying so much? Was it because of the past? The past being too present, still? Was I ready for this? And then I saw his face peep through the crowd and realized I’ve never been more ready.
there was a station where I last saw you. I remember that sweet smile on your face. I hope you remember me too. I would jump on any train just to get to you.
station. where is your station. that’s a lyric somewhere. carl is stationed in korea. he’s been to canada. canada is the only place i’ve been out of country. at least i’ve been out of town, i tell myself. … remember playstation? i don’t know many people who have an updated playstation system.
I was standing at the station waiting for ever.. for what seemed like forever.. and waiting for what? I don’t think there was even anyone I knew coming in on the train that day, except for maybe a couple of acquaintances from town. And yet there I stood, waiting as though I was desperately awaiting an arrival.
Everytime I say goodbye to my family at the station, I get sad.
“I think you are acting above your station” said the man with the monacle. I looked at him with contempt. “Who the hell are you to judge me?” I asked
i like the colour purple cos it’s so sweet and mild. station, stationary.
A ticket to nowhere. Which station will you get off on? You can never go backwards.
It’s never the same. The memories you have of a rural train station when you’re young – the platform is so wide, with lots of interesting people milling about. I remember as a child seeing a coin on the train track. Mum was momentarily distracted and I simply jumped down onto the tracks, oblivious of the time or whether a train was not far away. I was so focused on my wonderful find! I collected the coin, climbed back onto the platform to find my mum reaching for me with panic in her eyes. The train was only minutes away. Amongst the stern talking to that my mum gave me, I was feeling very happy with myself. I had picked up a 50 Lira coin! Something I’d never seen before, living in regional Australia.
the train station, the police station, stationary wherever I stand. Waiting for the train or policeman to return stationary. Which ever station this is I hope that the train doesn’t arrive in the middle of the wrong one.
In combination with another word (that word being “train”), and you’ll find yourself in one of the best places every city has to offer. The promise of adventure on rail. Strangers on a train.
The music is flowing into my body, in and out, along with the beat. The song ends and another comes on. I am amazed at the switch that is flicked on inside as the energy bubbles up to my surface. I can’t use the proper words to express party rockin’ in the house and so I’ll every day I’m shuffelin’. .
a place where people congregate from one place, to go to another place. a place gone to not as a destination, but rather, as a place for transit. it is the place where goodbyes and hellos are said. a place of sorrows and happiness.
We sat at the station, waiting for trains. 8 hours, and not a single train went our way. but that’s not what matters. The people in the station made our day.
I arrived at two thirty in the morning. The station was dark and foggy. I had no idea where to go from here. Everything I had was now in the past. All I was left with were the clothes on my back and the future in front of me.
she was standing at the station, red hair blowing over her face, the bustling crowd billowing around her as she watched, silently, for her train. the red light in the distance switched to green, instantly animating the crowd more than before, people stood up, grabbing bags, children and tickets, ready to board.
cuando estaba en la estacion vi a un viejito, me pidio 30 centavos, se los di porque me dio mucha pena. resulta que 10 centavos le debia al colectivero y el resto pago un cortadito en el bar de la estacion. cuanta gente como esa se ve todos los dias, pobre, cuanta gente.
trains chugging noisily, smoke everywhere in the sky, clouding visions, confusion, being lost and stuck, journeys both real and imaginary, dreams of travel, stuck on one path on the train, unable to change your way, station’s being homes for those without homes, tramps, bums, beggars, wanting to move on but unable to, trapped
The sun spills through the foggy glass in the train terminal. A warm stagnate heat floats in the tiny station room. There is one lonely passenger sitting silently in the seat near the door, allowing a small breeze to caress her hair. Her gaze is transfixed on the landscape beyond the station. vibrant green wisplike grass and pale blue water. The rain the past couple of days gave enough water that there were little creeks and ponds on and around the rusty train tracks.
I saw the man at the station. He was standing to the side of the tram runway, almost hiding from the on coming busle of people and crowds. He was faciciously garbed in simple clothes, but I could tell by the way he leaned on the pole and in the way he held his gait, that he was a man of stature and class.
The train station was crowded, especially at noon. This was when the most people were boarding and leaving and this was when the most could be seen. All of the people in the station have a story, you see, and if you look closely enough, you can see it for yourself.
a place that doesn’t move
a location that is permanent
to be put in a place for easy identification
I’ve been to a station before. I used to go all the time. With a good friend of mine. We would ride it the metro all the way to downtown. We would see the craziest people at the station. I always wondered what their lives were like. Some of the practically lived there – seeing as they were probably homeless. How is life when all you ever see is the metro station? You never go anywhere. Don’t see the beauty of the Grand Canyon or the Great Wall of China. Maybe they don’t know those things even exist. I guess that’d be just as us never going to a mall on another planet in one of those far away solar systems we’ll never know about. That must be great: not knowing what you’ll never know. Or maybe not. I think it’s nice knowing that there’s many things I’ll never learn, never see, never do. I guess it helps me appreciate what I have done and what I will do. This is what stations have taught me.
una estación de tren donde la gente se despedia y las maletas se subian. Mientras el tiempo corria y la gente llegaba tarde, y así ella persió el tren. y se tuvo que quedar en tierra. Y nunca llegó a su destino
Theres a station down the street from my grandmother’s house…well I think Its a station or it used to be. Now its like an empty lot. All I know is it looks creepy and the train passes by it every day. I
I am waiting at the train station, soaking wet from the rain and from crying. He told me he would come but but didn’t showed up. I was lonely and I looked forlorn. I never stepped in the train station after that, not even a glance.
petals on a wet, black bough. the poetry of metro stations. stationary. still. stillness. light. love. green. coming
The bus station. People. Bags. Children’s screams. Conductor’s whistles blow. All looking for something. All wanting to go somewhere. All longing for some satisfaction. All full of dreams and hopes. All restless. All chaos.
I love mrt stations because they are where people meet and go and come together. and I will always remember the sticky heat how I’m always perspiring deep quick fast swift rivulets down my spine while waiting for the train and then when the doors open and I stalk inside i always feel self-conscious of the people looking at how sweaty i am and i wonder if they would just avert their eyes, avert their eyes.
I’m at the train station, and before i got here i was at the bus stop on my way to school, and that’s when i seen you.
I was at the station an hour ago and I thought, maybe the reason why we wait for the train to go by is we have a serious problem with dealing with the inevitable. Things happen for a reason, and we can’t just station ourselves in one place for the rest of our lives. We won’t grow up, and the only way to grow up is to let go.
When we pulled out of the bus station that cold December morning, we knew that we were never coming back to this town. Even after all we had been through, we were a little sad knowing that we could never come home again.
I’ll meet you a the station you said to me
I am waiting here so very patiently
but when you dont arrive
I grieve
for a moment in time
and start to leave
resting each step carefully
praying
that you’ll come walking up behind me
Lrt. Santolan is where I ride and Legarda is where I go down. I take the train from Santolan everyday going to UST. It was so tiring, of course because, sometimes, there are no seats availaable.