From the station platform, here, higher up, the city looks like a town; buildings are small, the skyline more visible. Everything is free and open as if the next train due to arrive might lift into the sky revealing buildings below as no more than...


There was that day when he recalled leaning over the railing lined edge of a roof-top terrace and thought of letting go; only the buildings, cars, and people became smaller as he floated upwards, into the hemisphere and beyond. Remembered images from TV, visions of earth from space, didn't suffice - contained within a camera, or within the casing of a television set. That fundamental endless open expanse was gone.


A train pulled in.


He paid no attention, still gazing steadily - a blur of colours; reds and blues; the beeping of a train door. The train pulled away. He remained.

He watched a black, sooty mouse darting in and out of the train tracks.

It was entrancing.

He felt his face soften and his shoulders sag as he watched it's sharp bursts of energy. It was so... that this... and he didn't really know... nor did he care...

He thought that if it all ended here, watching this mouse running back and forth, that it would be OK. Then he thought what a funny thought to have, and smiled.


© Colin Legge