Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Guitar strings

A young boy stepped onto the train carrying a guitar. He didn't have a case, and when he sat down in the far corner of the carriage he began to play very softly. Melbourne Train Girl listened as his fingers danced tentatively up and down the frets, picking out scales and arpeggios. She heard the notes only every now and then, but the sliding of his fingers along the steel wrapped strings drifted down the carriage, rhythmic and steady.

He looked like Nick Drake, Melbourne Train Girl thought. She wondered how old he was. Younger than her.

He rested his head on the body of the guitar, listening to the strings. Melbourne Train Girl smiled. She often does the same when she plays.

It was not even 5pm, and already the sky was close to night. The sun was low and beautifully golden against the silouhettes of trees and small houses rushing past. To the east it was impossibly dark. By the time she reached the city everything would be black, and there would be no stars. The sky would reflect the street below, hundreds of bodies in black coats rushing for trains and trams, and Melbourne Train Girl would be standing in red as the tides of people flowed around and past her.

Melbourne Train Girl had looked at her red shoes before leaving the house.

She had put on black boots instead.

posted by melbourne train girl 7:27 pm

melbourne.train.girl takes the train. And sometimes the tram and the bus as well. She is the girl in the corner seat wondering if the boy by the window will say hello.


123 I love you
a beautiful revolution
adelaide writer
comic book girl
dysfunctional android
enny pen
from the archives
momo freaks out
petite anglaise
the girl who
waiter rant
what's new pussycat?

Washed up
Melbourne Train Girl wondered if she should have a...
Cold feet
Plaid and tartan
Wet shoes
The last train
Getting dressed

April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006

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