The trained ear never fails to recognize the incoming train. The very well trained ear will also figure out which direction the train’s coming from. Trained as in having spent countless moments at any time of day and at any time of year in the underground station, a northern junction, the two platforms – northbound and to downtown – separated by a wall with strange oval holes at the bottom near the tracks. You can’t see the passengers on the other side but you can feel the movement of the wind and the echo it creates, muffled at first and then like that of a ball rolling (in writing it would be a series of b’s and d’s amplified in pitches that sink lower and lower till the brakes of the incoming train shriek fumingly, though at that point the eyes catch the two massive headlights and sight takes over. Not to mention relief given the unreliable state of public transport!)

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