Τρίτη, 14 Οκτωβρίου 2014

Blog no.12: On the road

My dear few,

  It's 9 a.m. in the cold October morning and I find myself sitting on a bench by the train platform, waiting for the "7:54 train" to Salonica, alongside a young lady in her late twenties. She is rather pretty for what I managed to see; I'm always quite gentle when observing my surrounders. I was eating a cheese-pie and kept thinking how it was more pie than it was cheese while sipping from my grown-up drink through my grown-up straw, a chocolate milk carton. The few stray dogs were staring at me while I halfheartedly ate through my pie-pie so I shared half of it with mama-dog, who admittedly enjoyed it more than I did.
  Afterwards I krept my hand in my 5-year old schoolbag, found my way around the various sweets and snacks I had packed for the trip and pulled out my newly acquired copy of 'Gone Girl', the movie of which I had already seen twice in the theatres and loved if you can't tell. While I'm dissecting Amazing Amy's skull, thinking of her head and all that sweet nonsense, my co-bencher is lighting up her fourth cigarette since I had sat next to her, and now I'm wondering if she's that bored, that addicted or if my mere presence forces people towards destructive cigarette marathons.
  Nick Dunne is now wandering about his childhood memories and I'm not trying to seem sophisticated anymore, I'm really into this book! My mind is still on the now late "7:54" train though, it's lateness irritating me as much as its 54-ness, a rather cruel test for passengers with OCD. I don't even have OCD but I'm mildly annoyed since I don't get why you would someone bother pinpointing the exact minute if they are gonna be late anyways. I guess I'll never get these 10 minutes of doing nothing back, huh.
  Passing through the endless and seemingly empty green fields, I'm still more into my book than I am contemplating existence while looking through my smudge-covered windows into the suburban nothingness that is the northern Greece countryside; I've done this so many times in the past I'd argue there's not much more to contemplate about. I see the sun creeping through the cloudy mess of a morning sky, I put on my white headphones over my still-buzzing-from-the-club ears and I'm thinking how fine I finally feel, because for a moment, I only have to worry about getting off at the right station.

From the foggy northern Greece countryside,

Stelios Zesiades.