#02 Musings on the Train

Da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum

The train chugged onwards to its destination.

I sat down on the train with my Japanese book in my hand, ready to tackle those difficult Hiragana strokes needed for my test later on in the afternoon
Learning a new language is so hard.

I gave a disgruntled sigh.

It is said that we learn languages much faster when we are young. Perfect example of why adults can be more obstinate than young children.

I stared hard at my words and for a moment, looked up and caught the person sitting next to me peering over at the words in the opposite reflection of the train window. 

I gave a smug smile to myself

I'm so hardworking, I'm learning a new language, murmured the inner arrogant self. 

But not out loud, of course.

They are just thoughts meant to be kept in the inside of my head.

Da-dum da-dum da-dum da-dum

The door opened.

A man walked in wearing a yellow striped shirt and long black pants.

He looked normal.

But he was talking aloud to somebody.

Or nobody, as we, the surrounding commuters started to realise in unison. 

"The storeys are this high. It is tall.. No, I'm telling you... it is perfectly alright...Shame on you!..."

Two of the commuters gave highly appraising looks.

Wide-eyed, small frowns.  

Not even bothering to oggle discreetly.

Like looking at strippers or hookers on the streets as you cruised comfortably by in a shiny, new black BMW. 

Not bothering to hide those oogly eyes.

Shame, shame, shame on you.

That man was clearly mad.

But what makes him mad? And us sane?

What if we are the ones who are insane, and him sane?

What if thoughts are not meant to be kept inside the head, but to be blurted out as and when we like.

What if thoughts need not be coherent, but flighty, sudden and irregular like dreams and nightmares?

Shame, shame, shame on you.

Train stopped.

And he stepped off the train, disappearing from sight.

He never missed his stop. He knew where and when to stop.

Do we? 

Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.

The train chugged onwards to its destination.

One of the commuters scratched his Chinese tattoo imprinted on his neck. 

The other picked her nose and yawned loudly. 

Someone answered the phone and laughed raucously. 

And the inner voice in me was singing to the lyrics of American Girl by Bonnie Mckee...

xx

Loves, 

Nices

P.S My Japanese test went horrible, by the way...