The sun was shining but it was disguised by the clouds for every few minutes. It was a cold day, blown away by the fierce heavy winds. These harsh winds were usually followed by the sharp pelts of rain. It came and went away but when it did come, the rain would coincidently be illuminated by the light of the cold sun. It seemed almost like little spirits of light falling from the sky.
I waited for the train and I was waiting for a few hours now,
The screaming winds threatened the safety of the train paths with overblown trees and toppling overhangs.
I looked around, attempting to entertain myself somehow. It was an old train station from what I could see. Flecks of paint dotted the ground randomly and the staircase for crossing needed another paint job. What I imagined used to be a crimson bright red was now a bleached pink. Discoloured by the exposure to the harsh rays of light from the beating sun.
The heavy ticket machine did not fare any better as well. The metallic rusted shell looked as if it was art project from a 5-year-old child convention. It paled compared to the newer machine a few meters away from the outdated relic. With newer features and a glass touch screen, the salt and pepper machine exuded the feeling of futuristic sophistication. But of course, it was not. It still printed on paper and it could only process transactions through card payments. It was unique but only if you isolated it from other models.
There was another person on the train station that was sharing my fate of having to wait for our transport to arrive. Although he was across the station on the opposite platform, I could see his features quite plainly. He was a wide man that was able to fill up the mud leather jacket he was wearing. Thanks to the sheer size of the man, the jacket had no creases. He sported a complimenting cowboy-like hat that sat firmly on his head for no matter the force of the galling winds, it stayed rooted to his head.
When he turned his head and was facing me, I looked away, not wanting to be caught staring at him. I ended up staring at the bridge in its place but instead of just observing the bridge, I focused more on the trees surrounding the metallic crossing. The trees heaved with the wind, its screeching branches sounding like a train moving on the smooth rails. It occasionally caused me to look at the train’s path but the sight of a coming train was nowhere. The branches would continue its screeching laughing as they trick me again and again.
Yet, despite all the flaws of this station, I still found peace in the discomfort.
The howling wind reminded me of my ability to feel, the sharp pelts of rain, illuminated as spirits falling, reminded me of the countless frames of nature’s beautiful paintings that I have taken with my faultless eyes. Reminded of this, I closed my restless eyes, sealing them from the portal to another world, an endless combination of all the colours of every rainbow and beyond.
With my sight reserved away, my other senses were more prominent in my mind. They picked up things that I always knew were there but because of my dependence of my sight, these senses were dampened.
The screeching wind was as ever present but I could feel more from it. It did not just blow into me but also around my face and around my fingers. And it smelled like…well there was an odd mixture of smells. I could faintly smell the metal used around the station. The smell when you warm up a can or when you grind metal together.
I could also smell the summer breeze being introduced as well. The scent of dead leaves was gone replaced by the freshness brought by the light rain. The freshness of the air reminded me of the sea oddly. It was a weird association but nevertheless, the sea was present in my mind. The smell of highly concentrated salt, with the lasting odour of seaweed bathing on the soft wet sand.
Although my sense of smell was periodic in respect of my breathing, my sense of hearing sent endless signals to my brain.
Naturally, the gusting wind was the first thing that I had noticed. It wasn’t like the howling wind from when you have refuge behind a building. The raw wind was different with no barrier. It flowed instead of piercing through the air and the rush of air sounded like a chorus from a pack of scattered wolves. Wolves that sang into the night. Scattered but still together. Together yet free. Free and still happy.
Now and again, the sound of a moving car would pass through the station. The rubber tires crunching stones from underneath the car. Or the quicker paced cars climbing the small hill outside of town. They were either slowing down for a stop or speeding up in a hurry. Never are the drivers able to thoroughly enjoy the sight that mirrors their scratched glass windows.
With all this whizzing through my head, I opened my eyes, once again, flooding them with the beauty of this world. Its chaotic nature made its beauty. But this beauty was only there after I balanced my senses. If I did not close my eyes, I may not have noticed the different smells or the singing winds.
I had to remind myself. I had only one life. One of the purposes of my life was to feel. It was to see. It was to smell. It was to hear. It was to taste. To feel the cold wetness of water or soft heat from the sun. To see breath taking landscapes from the endless mountains and lakes. To smell the perfectly baked pastries or the strong scent from coffee. To hear the infinite mixture of sounds or to hear another human talk, to hear a baby cry. To taste the delicious cooking from my parents or even the sweetest chocolate fudged cake ever made.
Feel. See. Smell. Listen. Taste.