we stood there on a late night tube, as it rattled its way between camden town and euston, and kissed. it was one of the best kisses i ever had. it was gentle but passionate, not deep and tonguey but full and sweet.
we had met just five minutes earlier. we had been sat opposite each other. we were both a little drunk and we were both reading the same book, hesse’s narziss and goldmund. its a book i read over. its about two men, narziss and goldmund. narziss is a scholar and lives in a monastery all his life. his friend, goldmund, is an adventurer who escapes from the monastery and fucks and fights his way across mediaeval europe. he breaks a lot of hearts and gets his broken a lot too, he falls in love with every woman he ever fucks. he becomes a sculptor and survives wars and plagues. he is not really a good man but he is a man to his core.
she got off at king’s cross and i never saw her again.
so, i’m on the tube the other day, ok? and it comes to a halt in the middle of a tunnel, and we all sit there in silence and wait, and then this voice comes over the public address system, “we apologise for the delay. this is due to a passenger under a train at oxford circus.” now, this got me thinking. a passenger i thought, under a train. I thought about how wrong that was, because surely, if you are under the train then you are not a passenger.