A few moments in the tween time on platform 2

As I write this now (well yesterday in my lecture pad) I am sitting on Circular Quay station, platform 2 and the 5:26pm all stops train to Lidcombe has just pulled up. I of course am not all that interested in the train, but sitting in a chair (for those of you who thought I was on the floor) looking through the glass railings to the landscape where the Sydney harbour bridge and Opera House reside, watching the harbour cats and green and gold ferry’s making their stops and waiting for an appropriate time to leave for my next appointment.

Its kind of peaceful now that the train has pulled out (yup time stops for no woman here) and the station is relatively empty, the breeze is refreshingly cool and the flags that border the Quay are swaying gently.

Sometimes it’s nice to just sit. I enjoy it, no matter how strange you think me for it.

The sun is setting and I find that just by taking off my sunglasses the world opens up around me, like all this time I was wearing blinkers and hadn’t noticed, keeping me on track and allowing me to hide myself from the world. I feel a sense of relief at the loss, the scene appears to grow and details become more apparent, the sky seems less foreboding, and with an emerging sense of control and renewed connection to my surroundings it’s all of a sudden easier to smile.

In the distance little dots of people are climbing the bridge in single file, 7 I count. Meanwhile a colony of seagulls fights over a discarded chip from the downstairs restaurants, the battle is won by one and the rest continue cruising about the area, hoping I imagine for another chance. A flash goes off as the climbers take a group shot and then proceed back down again.

The lights are starting to go on, barely visible at the moment but soon to replace the sun with their blue tinged light. I’ve noticed that people are slower in the evening ‘rush’ home. The day is over and most seem spent, void of any outward emotion and just plodding along the well-worn route on automatic pilot. It’s an in between time, the day is over but the night has yet to begin.

I’m waiting for an appropriate time to leave, no rush, but I’m reluctant to be the one to break the bubble I’ve blown in my mind.

A message comes over the PA system reminding me that “if you see an un attended bag on the platform DO NOT touch it and please notify the station authorities ASAP” and “for your safety, security cameras continuously monitor this station.”… bubble goes *pop!*

Another train arrives, and the cycle repeats.