Present;
is past.
Already.
Sat at the bench at the station watching trains and -
a scene unfold. There was a woman wearing a uniform shouting 'Get out!' and another woman with messy hair and something that could have been a large bruise covering a quarter of her face. It was not the kind of combination, the sort I have been talking about earlier, the likeable one. She refused to get up and leave, stared into space, space being the back of the seat in front of her. She was inside of the train and the other person involved is being paid to wear a uniform, check tickets and to kick people out of the trains before they go to sleep in their depots, still in their tracks, dead in their tracks.
It struck me.
The initially seated woman finally agreed to get up around 15 minutes later, walked out of the train, blinked into the light, half stumbled toward the benches on the platform, found her footing, found her hand on a railing, before slumping onto the metal pieces of the bench and asked everyone around for a cigarette.
The person seated beside her said 'Oh, that's funny. None is smoking here!' in a weird high voice, at the same time somehow faking preoccupation, somehow trying to lessen the tension.
A train was rolling in.
The messy hair person rose again, nearly fell off the platform, accompanied by a shrill shriek of the afore mentioned worried one. Then simply entered the waggon and probably disappeared from my life forever.
What worried me the most was, however, not people in general. Well, that, too.
More, my own incompetence of handling this matter and to detect a vague belief in psychiatry; or thinking that someone else would be more suitable, better equipped to deal with this problem, this person than I am. In this specific case and in any other similar.
