Do you see what I see?

Do you see?

Do you hear the two-toned rhythm of soft soles on concrete, every step, as you walk towards the station? Do you see the lines of the pavement before your feet: every crack a poem, every stain a story? Do you fear that if you look up, you will lose yourself in the world?

Can you feel the scarf around your neck, scratching your skin like sandpaper even as it screens you from the cold? When you free yourself and settle in your seat, it is sweet and warm relief. Is it soft between your fingers as you stroke its tassles?

Do you hear the low song of wheels on rails, noise living in the comfortable space between puppy whine and growl? Do you recognise the note?

Do you hear the quiet couple whispering and laughing, soto voce, at the far end of the carriage? When the woman in your section answers her phone, do you catch the voices at the other end? Can you follow every word?

Do you feel the train straining to slow as it slides into the station? The strong, inexorable pull of your body, onwards and forwards? The world warps and bends on the edge of a precipice, unbearable as night; until with a sigh the beast lurches backwards, resting on its haunches, and is still.

When you walk out into darkness, can you taste the sweetness of the night – of rain on grass? In the pristine stillness of the morning, can you smell the spring?

Do you see the colours of the world in concert; red and blue and green dischordant, violent in their brilliance?

Do you see?

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