Circumstances have led me here to the Perth – Fremantle train to get to work. I see inside the world of daily commute, monotony of work, and occasional carefree indulgence of spare time.
My journey is never lonesome – even the empty bus still has a driver. The only person who talks to me is the automated voice on the Transperth line. I’d like to tell them (female st the station, male on the train) how grateful I am for their guidance. I doubt they’d understand. We have a healthy uncomplicated relationship.
I feel like I could belong. I’m surrounded by faces, each reminding of people I’ve met and seen in my life. I’m sure that one guy looked like Bill Shorten, until I saw the guy next to him that looked even more like Bill Shorten. I know what you’re thinking, two much BS.
For the most part though, these faces are familiar, but still strangers. I see type. It’s an early morning world of office junkies, kids in school uniform, hipster and hipster light, in cold weather beanie wearers and leather jackets. Book readers, music lovers, YouTube viewers. All types of bodies, looks gestures, hair or none.
I’m endlessly curious about what these people are doing. I’m spending anywhere up to 2 hours a day on public transport. I should make more use of it.
10 hours a week, with about 48 working weeks of the year, say 500 words an hour. That’s 240,000 words a year, just from travel to work and back.
In Freo. Today’s going to be tough.