I found myself in the middle of a room full of people as I am beginning to get this slight nauseous feeling from my erratic claustrophobia that is now creeping in. I’m on a train roaming past the landmarks of the metro, on my way to the place I call the safest for me. We were squished like sardines in a can. I can feel the throbbing beats from a vein now magnified more than ever, residing in the right side of my forehead and the sweat dripping like lava from the surface of the scalp down to my nape. My whole body mass was depending on the athletic abilities of my toes to keep me from getting out of balance and in every stop upon arrival at each station, these brave toes of mine are constantly at war with the unrelenting inertia. No handrail was near enough for the rescue and the only available consolation was the blowing of the feeble breeze coming from the small opening of the vent of the air-conditioning.
It felt like I was drowning, keeping my head above the waters of the crowd as our bodies were waving back and forth and sometimes in these almost circular motions during abrupt turns through the sea of rail tracks, electricity and concrete.
I rested my aimless thoughts on this moving view that I got from the window just below the vent. And after a few, I noticed these whimsical formations of the dark clouds in the sky outside are starting to connive.
I hurriedly indulged myself taking a quick survey through the open spaces available on both sides of the train, between the bodies of the sardines to see how the skies are. And I was worried.
All of a sudden, just like that, it started to drizzle. And surprisingly it felt like the world was the skies’ grand piano, each raindrop was a musical note gently keyed in by this invisible hand.
Funny, in that silent moment we were convinced that each living soul is part of the melody and the verses that make up the entire piece. That we matter.
It began with a slow dance of the countless raindrops on a mission to make everyone feel overly romantic, I guess a gentle way of saying that a little delay is on the way, and it is okay.
My home was approximately 14 kilometers away from where I was, and the circumstance was telling me that I had plenty of time to be lost in this void within me. I was beginning to be numbed by the motionless state of my consciousness then a drift towards the compartments of my mind finally finding a soothing memory, reliving the entire experience in my head for six more times just enough refueling before finally getting to the next rest stop.
Then the consciousness took me to the idea of climbing trees, listening to really good music, fishing by the sea, travelling probably with someone really close. I began to think of the closest people I know, on how little time I spent with my family and friends. I thought of changing that, I thought of falling in love, the possibility of marrying someone soon and settling down for good. I also thought of having getting lost somewhere really far perhaps, enjoying a glass of whiskey in the night time, a quiet night for myself. Then I remembered something about borrowing a book from a good friend, also considering of buying a copy if I liked it, thoughts of the things that really mattered.
Maybe I am over thinking it, but I got this feeling that we were trapped here for a reason. I felt grateful for these realizations; despite of my initial display of reluctance my legs are no longer minding the pins and needles pinching me back to reality.
Then I was pulled back to my consciousness and the once full coach was beginning to free up. The sardines were rushing out of the exits and the platform going their separate ways, swimming past the reefs of this vast ocean of life just to be willingly caught again to the promises of tomorrow.