Posted by Anonymous on 2021/01/25 under Life At Central Station, where he changed for the monorail, Winkler walked than he was used to. Why? The bodily contact, maybe? The sense of physical contiguity with lity at large? He sat down opposite a man in a singlet who was eating something the remains of a Ginsters packet still wrapped around its bottom No. Of course not. This fear of trains was not merely an expression of
down the platform faintly brushing people as he passed. He allowed the
back of his hand to brush backs and buttocks. As the crowd jostled to
position itself for an approaching train he saw an arse in a tight Burberrypatterned
skirt on bare legs, a sticky-out but small, teenage, female arse,
and thought – as a Perspex people podule winked in the tunnel – of
bestowing a firm push on it. He felt his c*** thinking about it too, perking
up in his pants, and withdrew, horrified. This had nothing to do with sex.
But there was no doubt that with the general brushing and leaning and
distraction of the arse, he had experienced a far more painless train
existential loneliness, of the cosmic detachment he felt from his fellow !tnan. It could not be overturned simply by the corporeal confirmation that he was not alone on the planet. His fear was not part of some ongoing
delusional psychosis. It was real. He was scared of trains. They can kill you. They are really very dangerous. It is quite extraordinary that a society
as supposedly 'civilised' as our own can allow tubes of metal weighing
hundreds of tons and travelling at speeds of up to sixty miles an hour