Last night at Amsterdam Central station. Waiting for the train to depart. A man on the isle across the tracks catches my eye and I start to observe. Nondescript, wearing a knee-length wax coat, a hat and jeans, his features obscured in the shadows. There is something uncertain about how he carries himself. I watch him err around the isle without much sense of purpose. He approaches a trash can. Is it to throw something in or to take something out? He changes his mind and veers away, a soda can in his hand. Or is it beer? He could be an ordinary train passenger, slightly drunk, on his way home, or to the next party. Or he is homeless, and trying to escape notice by slipping into the mold of the waiting man? As my train sets itself in motion and we start to glide out of the station, I see him approaching the trash can once more. In the half darkness and from increasing distance, I think to see him sidling up to it and reaching with his left arm inside. In my mind an image flashes up of a veterinarian groping around inside a cow for the legs of the calf she is straining to birth. Then I lose sight of him as the train starts speeding up into the dark.
Posted on: Wed, 23 Apr 2014 10:49:57 +0000
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