The train juttered and quaked, slowing down and
speeding up, occasionally stopping altogether. His fingers reached out
and played in the sunlight. He wanted to grab it and pull the sun a
little closer, but somehow he knew that air-conditioning wasn’t the only
reason for his goosebumps.
He shuffled absently in his seat, anxious with no outlet. His mother placed a hand on his knee and smiled warmly; of course it was OK. He sat back and looked out the window: everything was shining vaguely; in the distance, distinct outlines of graffiti and dissolution.
Somehow the city was all and nothing like he had imagined. It felt like his first trip to the supermarket, guardedly holding on to his mother’s dress as they walked up and down the high-walled aisles.
Now they moved in and out of tunnels and artificial light. The tracks clicked like a drummer not quite sure of the beat. He remembered his brother saying that before they left; “I’ve done things I never imagined I’d do.” Like the train tracks; slightly out of time, not quite right.
The train stuttered to a halt and the doors hissed open and he stands and walks off the train. Fortitude Valley. He’s never thought about it before; fortitude. Like solitude. But it was named after a ship and despite its best efforts, neither fortitude nor solitude can be found there.
(originally posted on jameshultgren.tumblr.com)
He shuffled absently in his seat, anxious with no outlet. His mother placed a hand on his knee and smiled warmly; of course it was OK. He sat back and looked out the window: everything was shining vaguely; in the distance, distinct outlines of graffiti and dissolution.
Somehow the city was all and nothing like he had imagined. It felt like his first trip to the supermarket, guardedly holding on to his mother’s dress as they walked up and down the high-walled aisles.
Now they moved in and out of tunnels and artificial light. The tracks clicked like a drummer not quite sure of the beat. He remembered his brother saying that before they left; “I’ve done things I never imagined I’d do.” Like the train tracks; slightly out of time, not quite right.
The train stuttered to a halt and the doors hissed open and he stands and walks off the train. Fortitude Valley. He’s never thought about it before; fortitude. Like solitude. But it was named after a ship and despite its best efforts, neither fortitude nor solitude can be found there.
(originally posted on jameshultgren.tumblr.com)
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