I felt concerned that the situation was incorrect and that although I had no choice as to where I was, I knew it was in my power to decide where I was going. I stood back, felt my breath surrender in my body, leant towards my future hearing the trains horn blast it’s final warning, I stepped away from the station and embraced a new path.
Jessie
stations of life ; birth, puberty, heartbreak, in love, monogamy, death. one similarity in all of them, there’s always someone who’s gonna be happy.
Intersection where we meet. Lives of different colors pass. Lives of different cultures and visions and dreams collide. To leave. To move on. Faster, going beyond the here into the future and the what if. What if when I leave this station life happens? And so we go.
his high station… or hers, but always with inference that the highest station belongs to Him, God. Male god. Masculine God, with his masculine followers, disciples, officers and other persons of high station. It is not about height, blokes. It is about width.
It’s not quite a state of suspended animation, but it’s not that unlike one. The cold and darkness of the air and the short supply of oxygen keeps me in a half awake, half asleep state. I just hope that I can survive until the ship guides itself to the station. There are never any guarantees.
sometimesboy
“Sitting at the railway station got a ticket for my destination”. The station is lonely. It fills me with an empty sense of anticipation, but its empty with nothing to do.
The radio station I most favor on my morning commute is Froggy 101. This station plays the best new country hits and gets me in the mood to work. Some songs are upbeat and others are sad and solemn. Songs are sung about dieing young, about physical abuse, liars, ocean waves, love, and much more. Each song seems to speak to me in a different way, often explaining things that have happened in my own life. I suppose this is why country music is my favorite. The songs are about me and the things I have gone through in my life. If it isn’t about me, I can relate the songs to someone else I know. My brother-in-law, my grandfather, my husband, my uncle, a teacher from middle school…it makes me smile to think of just now. I do, however, listen to other radio stations on occassion – such as 97.1 BHT, JR 93.7, Magic 92.9, and 98.5 KRZ. My father is a DJ and I grew up with a love for all kinds of music.
Britney
The station was in the middle of the city. The bad part of the city. But isn’t this always true about railroad stations? They represent where the impoverished live.
This is where I was headed today — I had tickets and I wasn’t coming back.
I only had 60 seconds to get my things together before I would be irrevocably removed from the only place I had ever known.
Dorothy Lee
Newkirk Ave. station has been under construction for over a year. But the other day, I saw that they were laying bricks on the concrete sidewalk again. Is this a sign of hope? I would like to think so.
Anna
Früher war hier mal ein Bahnhof. Zu der Zeit als die Züge noch mit Dampf fuhren und die Fahrkarten mit einer Lochzange abgeknipst wurden. Und jetzt? Spinnenweben in zerschlagenen Fensterscheiben. Penetranter Geruch nach altem Urin von fleckigen Wänden. Eine verstaubte Uhr, deren Zeiger seit ewigen Zeiten auf kurz vor 10 und auf 47 stehen …
I sat and reminisced about where I was going and where I had been. This was the transition. Everything behind me was in the past, it was young and juvenile. Everything ahead of me was my future, my travel plans, my opportunity. The unknown.
Is it of this life? A dream? The tracks narrow into on speck on the horizon but that’s where we are heading. Outside is all white with small flecks of light brown dust. The destination is everything. The scenery irrelevant.
I was walking through the station. Crowds of people, crowds of people everywhere. Where am I going? I don’t even know. Maybe I should just leave and not come back? would anyone miss me? will they? I want to start over, I need a new me.
At the station I sat and contemplated where I was going and where I had been, and the only thing I knew was this: I had been and I still was. The station was the middle, and I was there. Where were you?
Elissa
the train station was completely deserted. There was no one around, except a small mouse in the corner of the empty restaurant. She wandered out of her mouse hole, padded with lost train tickets from forgotten years, and was greeted by the sight of stained cups of dropped coffee, leftovers from a rushed commute. What people discarded as rubbish, she found a million uses for.
Julie
A halfway point, linking two ultimate destinations. It could be the path between life and dead, wherein a station allows the dead to get off and any moment of their lives, and revisit incidences; or simply a join between two cities.
a train station is one of the most beuatiful places in the world. where people meet and leave and say hellos and goodbyes and share first kisses and last kisses and grab food to go and sit for hours waiting. a train station is beautiful it is cavernous and full of opportunity. we use them all the time but we never really use them, see them, explore them.
I want to be free. I’m stationed in this non-existent state of mind and there is no going back. Stationed still in this ever changing world in which we live in.
Place where people are meeting. Crowdy place full of situations and stories, like old women sitting on the bench, feeding pidgeons, all people passing by not noticing her. And as always, train is late, so you can see lots of rude people.
Tasselhof
What is our station in life? Some of us plan our journey through every station- down to the last penny and cushion. Some of us alight at random stations, and drop off depending on whim. The role we choose to play; the place and time where we choose to be – all plays an important part in our decision. But sometimes, we do not know where we can go if we can’t see the destinations ourselves. That is why it is immensely, extremely, inexplicably important that, before we decide for ourselves our stations in life, we must first know what are those available. And if none is to our liking, why not create our own?
Grace
I went to a train station in which the air was twirling, the sun was shining, and there was a beautiful tall man stationed next to me. He was tall and gleaming in all of his glory. He had dark hair and a bold face. He sat down on the bench next to me, and smiled.
Jessica
a station can either be a location where trains, buses, trams, monorails or any form of transportation arrive to their destination.
Lauren
train
Emma
The train station was cold, and though it was practically spilling over with people, it somehow felt empty now. She watched the train disappear into nothing and wished that she hadn’t had to say goodbye to him.
And if he never came home? At least he would know that someone out there loved him.
I was in the train station the other day and I saw a boy standing in the corner with a a feather hat on. He looked sad. He had bags with him, luggage. Maybe he was moving, or kicked out, or running away. He was maybe 17 at the most. Blonde-haired and brown eyed.
Briana
station
stationary
stationery
stop writing
write at the station
right and wrong
wrong turn
turn around, right now – all i wanna do is fall apart – and i need you now tonight – and i need you more than ever….
Helen
firetrucks blazing honking down the urban concrete jungle… cat rescue, fires, flooding after the storm police stations. wow, a playstation, games and fun. playing for hours on end with my kids and friends.
Carmille Fernandez
Waiting, reverberations and your own reflection robbed of color flashing on the other side. Proximity but not closeness, herded like human cattle convinced we have free will. Where are we going today?
Holly
Trains. Traveling. Somewhere far away, running away perhaps? From what, anyone could try and guess. God knows I would. Start over. Trains are the gateway to a whole new life. Stations the platform of it.
Melissa
There’s no station in the town where I live. I have to sit on a bus for nearly an hour; only then can I catch a train, move a little faster, reach places that I couldn’t otherwise reach. Which is a pain, cos I love trains. I read on them. Listen to people dripping secrets into their mobile phones.
Joey
He was at the station. It was autumn, breezy, windy, leaves acting cliche like they’ve seen the movies and know how to act. He was alone. His dark grey coat collar popped up. He was waiting for nothing. He thought she was nothing
Rebecca
i though about it and i think i will follow my gut, its the nature within me speaking, yelling, shouting, thinking, the nature is bizarre, it craves me, it guides me, it will show me the exit to the ultimate goal, and i will dance and laugh, and make you people dance and laugh too. you will remember this and rethink what is the truth.
shuriko
Tearful hugs were shared by the seperating families. Kisses and letters were exchanged, but one particular scene could be witnessed.
A couple, staring into each other’s eyes. Then they parted.
I was waiting at the station; waiting for what exactly, I wasn’t sure. I was sitting at one of the yellow benches, staring off into the far off distance, unsure of my purpose here.
Suddenly, I heard a faint rumbling off in the distance.
Tracy
The station was filled with tourists, natives, and all kinds of people.
A train going to the park had a couple of kids in it, shouting out the windows.
Another train that heads off to the beach nearby came by with a couple of people dressed to swim.
Ally
station is the fucking station. i hear a sheep called “train station” and then i’ve just stopped. speechless. malfare. malware miydi lan yoksa o. ingilizcem tıkandı beyler, yardıma gelin. station is the best place i’ve ever seen and the stallion of the absence of the immortal, and heavy metal never dies.
ibram
There was a large pillar of smoke coming from the station. Cheering and cries could be heard – both happy and sad, by families leaving.
“Au revoir, Mon Ami.”
Clarissa Spheal
She pulled up to the station. Unsure of where she was or even what time it was. She was not lonely though. Or scared. Any more. She had done the Unthinkable she left her mother by her bed.
“stay with me, my child”
She did not stay.
In this new town, which she learned was incidentally called Newtown, she called an old cab.
“lovely to see you again”
The cab driver said.
Rachel
The smell of the train smoke and the loud noise of it chugging to a halt and looking out the car’s window. We always made up stories about how Indians sat on the top of the train like Gods, but never knowing where they were going.
I felt concerned that the situation was incorrect and that although I had no choice as to where I was, I knew it was in my power to decide where I was going. I stood back, felt my breath surrender in my body, leant towards my future hearing the trains horn blast it’s final warning, I stepped away from the station and embraced a new path.
stations of life ; birth, puberty, heartbreak, in love, monogamy, death. one similarity in all of them, there’s always someone who’s gonna be happy.
Intersection where we meet. Lives of different colors pass. Lives of different cultures and visions and dreams collide. To leave. To move on. Faster, going beyond the here into the future and the what if. What if when I leave this station life happens? And so we go.
his high station… or hers, but always with inference that the highest station belongs to Him, God. Male god. Masculine God, with his masculine followers, disciples, officers and other persons of high station. It is not about height, blokes. It is about width.
It’s not quite a state of suspended animation, but it’s not that unlike one. The cold and darkness of the air and the short supply of oxygen keeps me in a half awake, half asleep state. I just hope that I can survive until the ship guides itself to the station. There are never any guarantees.
“Sitting at the railway station got a ticket for my destination”. The station is lonely. It fills me with an empty sense of anticipation, but its empty with nothing to do.
The radio station I most favor on my morning commute is Froggy 101. This station plays the best new country hits and gets me in the mood to work. Some songs are upbeat and others are sad and solemn. Songs are sung about dieing young, about physical abuse, liars, ocean waves, love, and much more. Each song seems to speak to me in a different way, often explaining things that have happened in my own life. I suppose this is why country music is my favorite. The songs are about me and the things I have gone through in my life. If it isn’t about me, I can relate the songs to someone else I know. My brother-in-law, my grandfather, my husband, my uncle, a teacher from middle school…it makes me smile to think of just now. I do, however, listen to other radio stations on occassion – such as 97.1 BHT, JR 93.7, Magic 92.9, and 98.5 KRZ. My father is a DJ and I grew up with a love for all kinds of music.
The station was in the middle of the city. The bad part of the city. But isn’t this always true about railroad stations? They represent where the impoverished live.
This is where I was headed today — I had tickets and I wasn’t coming back.
I only had 60 seconds to get my things together before I would be irrevocably removed from the only place I had ever known.
Newkirk Ave. station has been under construction for over a year. But the other day, I saw that they were laying bricks on the concrete sidewalk again. Is this a sign of hope? I would like to think so.
Früher war hier mal ein Bahnhof. Zu der Zeit als die Züge noch mit Dampf fuhren und die Fahrkarten mit einer Lochzange abgeknipst wurden. Und jetzt? Spinnenweben in zerschlagenen Fensterscheiben. Penetranter Geruch nach altem Urin von fleckigen Wänden. Eine verstaubte Uhr, deren Zeiger seit ewigen Zeiten auf kurz vor 10 und auf 47 stehen …
I sat and reminisced about where I was going and where I had been. This was the transition. Everything behind me was in the past, it was young and juvenile. Everything ahead of me was my future, my travel plans, my opportunity. The unknown.
Is it of this life? A dream? The tracks narrow into on speck on the horizon but that’s where we are heading. Outside is all white with small flecks of light brown dust. The destination is everything. The scenery irrelevant.
I was walking through the station. Crowds of people, crowds of people everywhere. Where am I going? I don’t even know. Maybe I should just leave and not come back? would anyone miss me? will they? I want to start over, I need a new me.
At the station I sat and contemplated where I was going and where I had been, and the only thing I knew was this: I had been and I still was. The station was the middle, and I was there. Where were you?
the train station was completely deserted. There was no one around, except a small mouse in the corner of the empty restaurant. She wandered out of her mouse hole, padded with lost train tickets from forgotten years, and was greeted by the sight of stained cups of dropped coffee, leftovers from a rushed commute. What people discarded as rubbish, she found a million uses for.
A halfway point, linking two ultimate destinations. It could be the path between life and dead, wherein a station allows the dead to get off and any moment of their lives, and revisit incidences; or simply a join between two cities.
a train station is one of the most beuatiful places in the world. where people meet and leave and say hellos and goodbyes and share first kisses and last kisses and grab food to go and sit for hours waiting. a train station is beautiful it is cavernous and full of opportunity. we use them all the time but we never really use them, see them, explore them.
w
I want to be free. I’m stationed in this non-existent state of mind and there is no going back. Stationed still in this ever changing world in which we live in.
Place where people are meeting. Crowdy place full of situations and stories, like old women sitting on the bench, feeding pidgeons, all people passing by not noticing her. And as always, train is late, so you can see lots of rude people.
What is our station in life? Some of us plan our journey through every station- down to the last penny and cushion. Some of us alight at random stations, and drop off depending on whim. The role we choose to play; the place and time where we choose to be – all plays an important part in our decision. But sometimes, we do not know where we can go if we can’t see the destinations ourselves. That is why it is immensely, extremely, inexplicably important that, before we decide for ourselves our stations in life, we must first know what are those available. And if none is to our liking, why not create our own?
I went to a train station in which the air was twirling, the sun was shining, and there was a beautiful tall man stationed next to me. He was tall and gleaming in all of his glory. He had dark hair and a bold face. He sat down on the bench next to me, and smiled.
a station can either be a location where trains, buses, trams, monorails or any form of transportation arrive to their destination.
train
The train station was cold, and though it was practically spilling over with people, it somehow felt empty now. She watched the train disappear into nothing and wished that she hadn’t had to say goodbye to him.
And if he never came home? At least he would know that someone out there loved him.
I was in the train station the other day and I saw a boy standing in the corner with a a feather hat on. He looked sad. He had bags with him, luggage. Maybe he was moving, or kicked out, or running away. He was maybe 17 at the most. Blonde-haired and brown eyed.
station
stationary
stationery
stop writing
write at the station
right and wrong
wrong turn
turn around, right now – all i wanna do is fall apart – and i need you now tonight – and i need you more than ever….
firetrucks blazing honking down the urban concrete jungle… cat rescue, fires, flooding after the storm police stations. wow, a playstation, games and fun. playing for hours on end with my kids and friends.
Waiting, reverberations and your own reflection robbed of color flashing on the other side. Proximity but not closeness, herded like human cattle convinced we have free will. Where are we going today?
Trains. Traveling. Somewhere far away, running away perhaps? From what, anyone could try and guess. God knows I would. Start over. Trains are the gateway to a whole new life. Stations the platform of it.
There’s no station in the town where I live. I have to sit on a bus for nearly an hour; only then can I catch a train, move a little faster, reach places that I couldn’t otherwise reach. Which is a pain, cos I love trains. I read on them. Listen to people dripping secrets into their mobile phones.
He was at the station. It was autumn, breezy, windy, leaves acting cliche like they’ve seen the movies and know how to act. He was alone. His dark grey coat collar popped up. He was waiting for nothing. He thought she was nothing
i though about it and i think i will follow my gut, its the nature within me speaking, yelling, shouting, thinking, the nature is bizarre, it craves me, it guides me, it will show me the exit to the ultimate goal, and i will dance and laugh, and make you people dance and laugh too. you will remember this and rethink what is the truth.
Tearful hugs were shared by the seperating families. Kisses and letters were exchanged, but one particular scene could be witnessed.
A couple, staring into each other’s eyes. Then they parted.
I was waiting at the station; waiting for what exactly, I wasn’t sure. I was sitting at one of the yellow benches, staring off into the far off distance, unsure of my purpose here.
Suddenly, I heard a faint rumbling off in the distance.
The station was filled with tourists, natives, and all kinds of people.
A train going to the park had a couple of kids in it, shouting out the windows.
Another train that heads off to the beach nearby came by with a couple of people dressed to swim.
station is the fucking station. i hear a sheep called “train station” and then i’ve just stopped. speechless. malfare. malware miydi lan yoksa o. ingilizcem tıkandı beyler, yardıma gelin. station is the best place i’ve ever seen and the stallion of the absence of the immortal, and heavy metal never dies.
There was a large pillar of smoke coming from the station. Cheering and cries could be heard – both happy and sad, by families leaving.
“Au revoir, Mon Ami.”
She pulled up to the station. Unsure of where she was or even what time it was. She was not lonely though. Or scared. Any more. She had done the Unthinkable she left her mother by her bed.
“stay with me, my child”
She did not stay.
In this new town, which she learned was incidentally called Newtown, she called an old cab.
“lovely to see you again”
The cab driver said.
The smell of the train smoke and the loud noise of it chugging to a halt and looking out the car’s window. We always made up stories about how Indians sat on the top of the train like Gods, but never knowing where they were going.