3-Stops Stories

I loved the train line that connects my humble suburbia to downtown and the subway network. I loved the rhythm of train tracks, the sound of doors opening and closing, the buzzing of body movements, people's books, iPads, reading glasses, working laptops, shoes and boots, umbrellas and hats. I basically loved the life on the commute train. No expectations, no promises, no strings or attachments, even though, I have to admit, I had my favourite cart, my favourite seat, my favourite window and especially my favourite people. During 6 years of commute, I never made friends with them, I never talked directly to them, other than "Excuse me!" or "Thank you so much"! Occasionally, a timid "Do you mind if I hung my coat next to your seat?" was perceived like a 2-hours Ted speech and I tried to shorten it up down to a 2-seconds no-word commercial. 

To all my fellow commuters, I miss you dearly and I will never forget the amazing time spent together; even though we were somewhat forced by life duties and responsibilities to be in company of each other as strangers, the admirable effort you made to enjoy the status of "unknown person" was and is greatly appreciated. 

Missing you triggered in me a peculiar desire: to write about you, about me, about our shared commute and especially about the experiences we lived together within the walls and time of the train. I learned to sit next to you, to listen to you and your stories, to accept your odours or bizarre eating habits, to admire or detest your fashion style (sometimes more lack of thereof), to empathize with your agonies, to respect your silence, to pay attention to your unsaid words, to reduce life to a simple and frivolous moment without pretending I was someone else.