Learn from the mistakes of others

Name:
Age:
Where on earth do you live:
Reason(s) behind your LJ username:
5 things you want to do/accomplish before you die:
What makes you happy:
What have you been listening to lately:
Do you enjoy reading my LJ:
If so, why:
Interesting fact about you:
Are you in love at the moment:
Favorite destination:
Favorite quote:
Will you post this in your LJ:

RECOMMEND
A movie:
A book:
A musical artist, song, or album:
Your fav. LJ user (not on my list already) I should/could befriend and why

Name:
Age:
Where on earth do you live:
Reason(s) behind your LJ username:
5 things you want to do/accomplish before you die:
What makes you happy:
What have you been listening to lately:
Do you enjoy reading my LJ:
If so, why:
Interesting fact about you:
Are you in love at the moment:
Favorite destination:
Favorite quote:
Will you post this in your LJ:

RECOMMEND
A movie:
A book:
A musical artist, song, or album:
Your fav. LJ user (not on my list already) I should/could befriend and why

so, i'm standing in the train station, waiting for a friend. time passes.i've finished my book. i watch the passing parade.

it's a hot day. i'm distracted by the many young women.

i begin to notice the way people walk. and sometime the way they dress. many couples in matching outfits - goth with goth, preppie with preppie, and so on.

most move quickly through the hall, not wanting to be here. wanting to be there already. a few furtive, hesitant - as if aware of scrutiny and uncomfortable as a result. occasionally a confident person strides through the crowd, comfortable, perhaps parading to their destination.

i see her hair first. a mass of red curls bobbing among the mass of browns, blacks, blondes. a strong, vibrant colour. possibly natural. i'll never know.

she walks confidently, head high, arms and legs move calmly and swiftly. the crowd parts as if aware of her passage, making room.

not a classical beauty, and no smile - a harsh grimace. unhappy. but still, something beautiful in her features. and something familiar.

she reaches the turnstiles, ticket in, out. she's through. and off to her right. long strides taking her to her destination.

a few moments pass, then the next train-herd disembark and race for the barrier - like so many racehorses.

then my friend appears, and we leave. people like so many sheep all around us.

sometime later i remember who the redhead was.

i should have said something. perhaps.

i didn't last time. perhaps i never will.

so, i'm standing in the train station, waiting for a friend. time passes.i've finished my book. i watch the passing parade.

it's a hot day. i'm distracted by the many young women.

i begin to notice the way people walk. and sometime the way they dress. many couples in matching outfits - goth with goth, preppie with preppie, and so on.

most move quickly through the hall, not wanting to be here. wanting to be there already. a few furtive, hesitant - as if aware of scrutiny and uncomfortable as a result. occasionally a confident person strides through the crowd, comfortable, perhaps parading to their destination.

i see her hair first. a mass of red curls bobbing among the mass of browns, blacks, blondes. a strong, vibrant colour. possibly natural. i'll never know.

she walks confidently, head high, arms and legs move calmly and swiftly. the crowd parts as if aware of her passage, making room.

not a classical beauty, and no smile - a harsh grimace. unhappy. but still, something beautiful in her features. and something familiar.

she reaches the turnstiles, ticket in, out. she's through. and off to her right. long strides taking her to her destination.

a few moments pass, then the next train-herd disembark and race for the barrier - like so many racehorses.

then my friend appears, and we leave. people like so many sheep all around us.

sometime later i remember who the redhead was.

i should have said something. perhaps.

i didn't last time. perhaps i never will.