Curiously, if you are surprised by the half of a luggage trolley sticking out of the brickwork and decide to try taking a photo of it, you may be stopped by an angry security guard who will shove his hand in front of your phone/camera lens and demand you pay for the privilege. They do not appear to be affiliated with the actual station, just enforcers of whichever franchise operation makes money selling photo ops. This has always felt rather telling.
Very recognisable. The shared love, the inexplicable intensity, the disappointment and sense of betrayal, and the sensation of moving on while still acknowledging the place something has in the tapestry of one's life, even after the creator is revealed to have feet of the purest clay.
Curiously, if you are surprised by the half of a luggage trolley sticking out of the brickwork and decide to try taking a photo of it, you may be stopped by an angry security guard who will shove his hand in front of your phone/camera lens and demand you pay for the privilege. They do not appear to be affiliated with the actual station, just enforcers of whichever franchise operation makes money selling photo ops. This has always felt rather telling.
Very recognisable. The shared love, the inexplicable intensity, the disappointment and sense of betrayal, and the sensation of moving on while still acknowledging the place something has in the tapestry of one's life, even after the creator is revealed to have feet of the purest clay.
My daughter and I discuss it often.
This is a beautiful read, hitting right in the heart.