Every evening after classes I cycle back to the train station, then walk down the length of the one platform to reach the tunnel that takes me back up to the other platform (architectural genius at work there).
Every evening without fail, at the exact moment when I reach the end of the platform and am just about to enter the tunnel, the streetlight right above me flickers and goes out.
This has been going on for weeks now. It doesn't matter which train I take, one hour later or earlier - the lamp is working, then, as soon as I pass by, it isn't.
I mean, it's not that I'm superstitious or anything... I'm just saying...
Go figure.
...
On a brighter note, for the last few nights in a row, as I was leaving the tunnel at my home train station (Das Bonner Loch - one of the most ugly, hostile, dirty, neon-lighted, noisy, homelessy, desolate places I can think of anywhere), there was a blackbird singing in a strong, clear, voice in the bare branches of the tree just outside. It made me turn around and (thereby) stop and annoy all the other commuters on their way home.
Incidentally, a blackbird's song was also the first sound I heard this morning waking up - well, after the alarm clock that is. It was right outside my window, tiding over that no man's land between night and dawn for me.
Profound symbolic readings featuring darkness and light and signs of desperation and hope are jostling and shoving and clamouring for my attention.
But I'll leave you to it.
Every evening without fail, at the exact moment when I reach the end of the platform and am just about to enter the tunnel, the streetlight right above me flickers and goes out.
This has been going on for weeks now. It doesn't matter which train I take, one hour later or earlier - the lamp is working, then, as soon as I pass by, it isn't.
I mean, it's not that I'm superstitious or anything... I'm just saying...
Go figure.
...
On a brighter note, for the last few nights in a row, as I was leaving the tunnel at my home train station (Das Bonner Loch - one of the most ugly, hostile, dirty, neon-lighted, noisy, homelessy, desolate places I can think of anywhere), there was a blackbird singing in a strong, clear, voice in the bare branches of the tree just outside. It made me turn around and (thereby) stop and annoy all the other commuters on their way home.
Incidentally, a blackbird's song was also the first sound I heard this morning waking up - well, after the alarm clock that is. It was right outside my window, tiding over that no man's land between night and dawn for me.
Profound symbolic readings featuring darkness and light and signs of desperation and hope are jostling and shoving and clamouring for my attention.
But I'll leave you to it.
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