The train doors open and the cold rushes in. With my seat right next to opposite door, almost straight in the path of the freezing wind, the cold hits me head on, washes over me from my feet all the way up to my head, clinging to me like a wet blanket. It's that special kind of cold that you only get in subtropical regions, that dampness the creeps in through your clothing and chills you through and through like nothing else can. Even the raw, biting cold of Sweden's frozen north doesn't feel as uncomfortable as this.
The bus is far less crowded than expected, only one or two people are standing up, despite this being one of the smaller busses on this line. Outside the air is crisp, bordering on chilly with a cold sun illuminating the world – what most would consider fresh spring weather. In the bus though, it’s hot and stuffy. There is a definite stale note to the air, an almost tangible, sickly sweet smell, and a feeling of second-hand body heat and recycled oxygen that engulfs you as you step inside. Strangely, almost everyone is sitting there calmly clad in jackets, … Read the rest
© 2024 Renegade Writings — Powered by WordPress
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑