Medium Delirium

The train at lunchtime was surprisingly quiet, until at Downtown station the doors slipped open and in gushed a flood of office folk, homogenous in their collared shirts and polyester dresses and little pouches filled with, probably, phones and credit cards and cigarettes and maybe a mint or two. In a few seconds, the hiss and drone of the static carriage was completely drowned out by a chorus of chatter and shuffling feet. It was so sudden and jarring that I put my book down for a minute just to take it all in. It reminded me of something, but I struggled to think what. That’s it – this scene brought to mind another: one of a flock of birds descending noisily upon a large tree, returning home for the day from the roofs and pavements of the scorched city, drowning out the rustling of leaves with a cacophony of shrill cries. I noticed the middle aged office lady in front of me was wearing a rather unusual bangle, comprising largish, watery spheres of emerald, onyx, red ochre and the sandy yellow of a peanut shell. The crowd stood in small groups of twos or threes with arms folded and immersed in conversation for just two stops, then, as if led away by the pied piper, they all amalgamated into a single creature once more and flowed back out the doors, doubtless returning to near-identical office setups.

As for me, I opened my book where I’d stuck a finger in as a bookmark and sank back into my own little world, happy to be back in my own peaceful bubble.