Warning

Turn away from the station, you've been waiting too long. There used to be tonnes of trains here, leaving all through the day and night, then they got less and less, a few a day, one every now and again. You thought there would always be trains. The ticket office is closed, the waiting room is boarded up. The whole town is now a waiting room. No way to leave. After all, no trains any more. The town has become a place of no departures, only exits. Walk away, leave the station behind. Bright sun, but the air tastes of empty rooms, and the sound of wings flapping is the like the sound of flipping through old photo albums. Other people wait too, missed their trains, and now they wait for their exit - no departures left now. Breathe in the stillness - could you settle here - fade away into the stone and the days and the afternoons and night full of repeats on the television? I suppose you could. Your fault you missed the train, messed up all the time tables. It's not a bad place. Sun is out after all, and at least its peaceful here. Think about walking though. Walking through that unmapped geography that never needed to be mapped before. Darkness outside the edges of town. Dusty desert lands. Towns without name. Unsafe sleep under the winding wind, the chimney skies. October moon, made of bone and dream. Set off. Keep walking. In every footstep on the road out of town, an echo follows, a song reminding you that this a warning. Up to you what it warns you back from.