You know, whenever people ask me what my most embarrassing moment in life is, I can never find a good answer. There are probably a few since I am a pretty clumsy person - one example being my continuous falling into the laps of several men whilst walking down a train aisle.
However, after looking through my old photos on Facebook, I’d have to say that the time my extended family decided to enlarge a photo of my face, put it on a stick, and proceed to take said stick-figure to every event over the course of my ten month absence… Well, that may just take the cake.
And for those who thought I was just being too selective about acquiring a boyfriend. No, really, once he met my family he would run in the other direction.
I witnessed something odd on the train today.
An Asian lady pulled a long, cylindrical, wood-like plant from her bag and proceeded to eat it. Inside it was purple. And sausage-like. And it had layers.
I would have asked her what it was, but she didn’t speak English.
Am I going crazy, or is it just my lack of gastronomical skills?
To me, train tracks look so small and thin from afar, perhaps because they are often compared to the vast scenery which they weave between. Yet when I’m sitting on the train, I peer through the window and the enormity of those rusty bars dawns upon me.
And I always get to wondering what it would feel like to die by a train.
Would it be slow, where you could feel the wheels pierce every inch of you and slowly roll your flesh into nothingness? Or would it be quick and painless, a carriage through your heart and it’s all over?
Either way, I don’t really want to find out.