Platform visible. None of this made up station fantasy, just the real deal. Rains come and two drops combine for an extra charge. Power moves. I nod when I release locks, not tongues. Wrap your mind but let your body drift.
But hold on, the announcement board murmurs. Next train is Every Second Count, composition at random times. Not like what they tell you when you first enter their world. Believe them but don't join the choir just yet.
I'll say it slow: When the wind rises, it's said purpose follows a hidden trajectory. I heard this from a sign just cracked at the letters tips. Just another conversation we avoid passing by.
Squirrel Artistry. Opportunistic part-time coup awaiting a brief exploitable node. Yeah, that long-haired guy from the end of the line had it coming. Yoga three degrees always shifts perceptions.
Real estate on the pier of neurons. What they didn't tell you was that all trains hop wavelengths. Refreshing, taxing, and below all soaking mundane material.