Post #114

Oxygen / Three hundred seconds spent observing the far end of your Parisian RER, the bark-like pattern left by long-dried lines of droplets on the glass, the kiwi marmalade synthetic fabric of the headrests, rubbings on the floors and corners left by a fair share of the 47 million tourists (and their luggage) passed through here this year alone. Twenty five minutes, only watching: clouds, the concrete domes of Charles de Gaulle, the buckwheat gravel on the railway, the metronomic passage of the poles, each one a “now”. The tunnels, dark on “in”, open on “out”. And by the time you disembark, you’re ready to assist your loved ones with their masks that dangle from the ceiling. @verse by MR