Tuesday, 23 November 2010

London Diary 36

We walk onto the tube, nay, we strut onto the tube. Her boots and mind clunking on the vinyl floor of the carriage. We are like a couple of movie stars, we own the carriage and the rest of the crowd know it. They divert their eyes, except for one man sitting in the corner. He looks angry, maybe at us, maybe at the world. Loneliness is a painful thing, it poisons the soul. As we take our seat, I see him stare from under his eyebrows, bitter, twisted.

The train rumbles through the tunnel, fast. I love the Victoria Line. It speeds underneath the Capital, an express of light blue that weaves through all the muck of the city. I look at my lover, and we giggle at each other. Her knees knock against mine as the carriage vibrates on its underground journey. It is that warm moment, that gushy feeling inside both of us. Smiling, flushed, touchy-feely. I caress her thigh as her foot rubs against my calf. We only have a few brief moments with each other until we separate. She will head off back to her part of town, I will head off back to mine. Living on the same side of the river, but living two separate and distinct lives apart from each other, except when we come together, all to briefly.

I look up, it is Oxford Circus. We get up and leave, the fast Victoria line onto the slower Bakerloo Line that will take us down the the Elephant. That lousy roundabout where every bus in South London must pass through. I despise the place, not for the architecture (brutal), but it is where we will eventually part. I hate that moment, when we have to part. It is the time that my mind clouds over. When I have to think about my life, and when she, also has to think of her life.

Why do we live like this, to only capture fleeting moments? Why don't we just come together, once and for all? What is stopping us, why do we resist. But as we reach our destination, we become more distant. The flush, warm feeling is replaced by cold steely glares, tension and eventually we stop being lovers and become two complete strangers, sitting next to each other on a train south of the river...

2 comments:

magiceye said...

beautiful...

When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. Khalil Gibran

el director! said...

For me, the characters that I wrote in this (and last week's post) are so wretched that I reckon it will take a long time for them to appreciate the beauty of what you said.

None of them appreciate what they have, which is why they are so wrapped up in themselves instead of each other - which is the way it should be ;)