I took a local train after really long. I stared at feet and shoes. There were feet looped uncomfortably through numerous brown tentacles. There were feet that had resigned themselves to their shoes. There were feet waiting to spring out of shoes. Toes curled in, feet chafed by their black straps.
I was also trying to reflect on boredom and happiness. I wanted to tap my co-passengers on their shoulders and ask them if they ever got bored, taking the same train to work every day, their lunch in their Hello Kitty bag. Someone was discussing a special occasion and a piece of jewellery. Someone was using the train to catch up on sleep.
Stopped at a roadside stall selling underwear. Found one that said Calven Klain all over the waistband. Seller insisted it was worth the high price because of the brand. I pointed out that they'd spelt it wrongly. In all seriousness, all Klein aspersions abandoned, he promised to have a word with the suppliers about the spelling. Honest piracy. Market economy.