A SORT OF UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE

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He bets, this fair-skinned young creature that all passengers today are complaining about the heat, like he knows all the languages in the world! It is hot, though, and it’s come unexpected. While old trains clatter along, and shrewd locals know it’s best to avoid them, new trains are like refrigerators on wheels, and AC pumping out at full blast is cheered or rejected with relief or impatience – the youngish blonde would have no problem recognizing feelings here, sighs and snorts being a sort of universal language. Going up from underground there’s only twelve people and they move like ants, a feeling never appreciated when there’s a full crowd trudging randomly along – wind comes up from the tunnels and mixes with the breeze from outside, some put a hand in defense of their throats. We walk out. It’s raining on this side of town!

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