The rays of dawn roll over the waking world as I am swept away by the pure magic of motion. The gentle sensation of realizing how wondrous it is to travel is as soothing as the fading taste of the cappuccino i had in the stations cafeteria. A place filled with absolute strangers, somehow in limbo between the early dawn and the rushing life of everyday. I sit and wonder where they are all going. What brings them here. How they differ from the hurried businessman that jogs through the crowd in order to catch his train on time.
The "cafetarians" as we can call them appear to have the superpower to slow down time. Their movements slow and leisurely, flirting with slow-motion . Their eyes glazing over into stares that pierce some unknown void. The sound bustling footsteps, departure announcements, and rattling trains seem to remain oblivious to them. Perhaps you can call some of them lazy, or bums, or both ? I must admit some of them do appear to fit that bill. Having your second beer at 6.45 am is hardly a trait you would like to have on your resume. And their lack of motion in comparison to the rushing dawn can hardly be called pro-active. But .. perhaps there is more to it then meets the eye.
Let us look at the average morning of the businessman. He gets up late, grabs a shower and swings the expensive Armani suit over his still damp body. Everything dries in time, he mumbles. As he hastily shoves a handful of dry cereal into his mouth he cannot help to resist the urge to rattle the kitchen drawers to wake up his wife. His brow knots in frustration as he pointlessly wishes she could have made him a full irish breakfast before he left and he looks for his suitcase. Its of to work, in the car to the train-station. His car radio still queued on the last track of some kids pop-band he cannot help but endure the chorus to an insanely stupid song that his youngest daughter loves to sing along to. He feverishly looks for the knob and switches to the news. Darn.. He just missed it which can only mean he's gonna be late. 5 minutes later he races through the stations hallway past the cafeteria. With an icy sweep of his eyes he surveys the "cafetarians" who appear to have all the time in the world. "Bums" he thinks as he looks into the eyes of a young man looking up from a bright white laptop. "Whats He looking at ?" Barely sixty seconds later the train-doors whoosh to a close as he slams down in the seat, opens his briefcase and starts to worry about work. A sigh of frustration escapes him. Wishing he could be a cafetarian for a day. To just sit there and watch the world go by while having a cappuccino.