My favorite time of day is spent on the train.

Meditation and contemplation, a grasp for meaning.

No task at hand, the world blurs past in my peripherals and I consider how to turn the pain in my hips into a sensation worth having? More importantly, what to have for dinner?

Surrounded by bodies, I dive deeper into myself.

Recognising the smell of green curry creeping from a lunch box and the hum of a headphone turned up too high. I sit, noticing my body's place in this space and my relationship to the chair beneath me. There’s a tension in my jaw, a twitch in my eye, and a restlessness withIn.

I stretch, hold on to the railing beside me, cool metal sending shivers down my spine. Absorbing the looks of  those around me, darting from my chair to my chest.

I breathe… let go… and contemplate displacement; 

how I’ve removed myself from the perception of others in the name of authenticity without knowing what exactly is my truth. Perhaps it’s a profile, curated and filtered or the bed head hair I spent 20 minutes sculpting.

Or perhaps it’s just me, here, now. Exactly as I am.

Listening to jazz with a pain in my hips and a hunger in my stomach. 

Present in a moment, on a train, to be repeated for contemplation and meditation.

I arrive at my destination.


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