Word Paintings

The Train Station

Rush Hour

People scampered and scurried across the station as they boarded and disembarked from the trains. It was an organized chaos. Businessmen and secretaries walked briskly towards the platforms with coffee cups in their hands. College students jumped off trains and dashed towards the exits, backpacks bouncing on their backs. A few street performers and beggars loitered outside the entrances, either performing their acts in front of empty audiences or begging for spare change from the generous minority. The rest consisted of an array of individuals who moved much less and occupied most of the benches.

They grew impatient. An anxious office worker hurriedly counted coins to pay for a ticket as a line of people frowned. Crowds checked their wristwatches as they waited for trains to arrive. People packed into trains like sardines in cans, sacrificing comfort for the sake of punctuality. And then there were the baristas and those who labored in coffee shops, brewing and baking and serving as quickly as they could in order to appease the masses. Women sighed as they queued at the restrooms and glared at those who took too long inside the cubicles. "Time is money" was a phrase often uttered at that time.

And then the station began to empty itself. Rush hour neared its end as the workers neared their offices, the students rushed to schools, and the shopkeepers saw a decline in customers. More trains came and went, picking up more passengers than dropping them off. Fewer schedules were displayed on the screens that dotted the station.

The clock signaled two o'clock. Rush hour officially ended.

Midnight Commute

Silence. Utter silence filled the station as the night dragged on. The quietest noises became extremely noticeable: the clinking of shoes against the stone-cold floor, the sipping and slurping of beverages, the whirring and beeping of ticket printers and brewing machines, and the tick-tocks of the watches and clocks. The few people who were there were unfazed, even gladdened, by the lack of sound. From time to time, an announcement would signal a train's departure, arrival, or delay.

Space. There was so much space inside the station that could not be fathomed without seeing it in person. Tall ceilings seemed as high as the sky, the nearest person seemed to be miles away, and there was more than enough room to walk and jog and sleep on the benches. The sheer size of the station made the commuters feel minuscule. Rows of platforms and rails were spread from one edge to the other edge.

Time. Time passed so slowly at night. Ten minutes felt like an hour as commuters tried to entertain themselves. Younger passengers unlocked their smartphones and played games. Seniors sat on the seats and watched their surroundings as though they were watching a film. The remaining adults lounged in bakeries, eateries, and breweries, consuming food and drinks as they kept a lookout for their trains. Sometimes they would check the clocks or their watches to make sure that they had not missed it.

Trains. There were only a handful of trains that arrived at and departed from the platforms. There were no more than three of them present at the same time, and for good reason. Barely anybody boarded. Barely anybody disembarked. Those who were inside stretched their limbs over several seats, and some even occupied a whole row. A few commuters smiled and muttered, "So this is what it's like to commute at midnight."