But then again, you
have done nothing wrong. It was not you
that disappointed. You are, you suppose,
no longer waiting; though by now you have been here so long you have become
part of the furniture, along with the cafe tables, bronze statue, and the man
pushing his bucket and mop who cleans the public toilets. This is your railway station, and there
really isn’t anywhere else you might as well be, now...Do you ever recall the
hopefulness of anticipation? Do you feel
guilty to have lost it, by degrees? Do
you feel for those arriving at the station, as you once did? Envy?
Pity? Contempt? Do you notice them at all?
Imagine. Savour the bitterness of waiting.
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