An emotion-provoking piece, devoted to Literary Realism; one of my favourite writing-styles. It was written -rather suitably- aboard a train in Germany on 17-07-2020.
Producing a sine wave sound rising in frequency, electricity passes through the engine and the train sets itself into motion. Its destination lies elsewhere. Puffing and squeaking, the noisy machine fares out of the station. The commotion dies down quickly after, and quietness returns.
A big clock on the platform tells that it’s somewhere around eight in the evening. Peak hours are over and passengers are few. The surrounding valley is encircled by hills, topped with plucks of pine-trees. At this point of dawn, the sun had descended enough in order to send some of its last rays through the periwinkle overcast.
The station’s diner had closed its shutters hours ago. The entrance has been amalgamated into the only notable terminal, which gives quite a dilapidated impression. Its canary yellow wainscoting had begun to exfoliate seemingly years ago. Nonetheless, bits of former glory still remain. One could easily imagine it being bypassed by whistling steam trains in a faraway past. Yet, a large plastic pamphlet hanging down the facade promises that the area will soon be modernized, whatever that might mean.
All in all, it was an intensive day aboard different carriages, leading through lively towns and vast pastures. Safely behind a large window, innumerable settlements and industrial sites could be seen drifting by. Within the intimacy of the train compartment, there were some shy interactions with fellow passengers, but it was too transitory to still recall their precise countenance. In contrary to this lonesome place, they have disembarked earlier on and might now be having dinner with their family or loved one.
Travel announcements can be heard from a row of rusty loudspeakers, echoing til far beyond the station’s bounds. Talking in an unknown language, a recurring female voice conveys all sorts of travel information. In the warmth of her voice, there is confidence and reassurance. Those present, listen attentively whenever she has something to say.
On an adjacent marshalling yard, the blood red eyes of a small suburban train seem to hover above a complex structure of tangling railway tracks. The empty vehicle appears to be standing by for the start of its working hours. When the red signal jumps to green, it will glide onto an allocated railway track to begin loading and unloading human beings.
Meanwhile, and with sheer indifference, a lengthy freight train cuts through the station in full speed. The extensive string of chemical containers which it carries, shapes into a giant, otherworldly snake, of which a roaring locomotive forms the head. Little later, its poisonous tail escapes the station with a fierce blow of wind. Once again there is calmness. The snake’s visit was just a fleeting disturbance in the prevailing tranquility.
Scattered across the platform, a handful of travellers is awaiting their transport. Partly hidden behind a windshield, sits a young woman with blonde hair who appears to be lost in thoughts. And on appropriate distance, a young man is leaning against an information display. Other, more distant platforms are similarly dotted with vague human silhouettes.
Every now and then, there seems to be a flash of curious eye contact between the passengers. Dreamy eyes glare across the premises almost uninterruptedly. And sometimes, the lines of sight would coincidentally cross paths and affirm each other’s solitude. One might wonder how many fragile romances have bloomed amidst these charming railroads.
The curious workings of the universe had arranged this brief encounter between strangers, who might never meet again hereafter. As soon as the incoming train will disperse them into opposite directions, their precarious common ground of solitude will perish.
The Social Writer 