Gulps of sparkling water are running through my throat, mouthy portions of carbon are seemingly burning their way down. It hurts, but I'm too thirsty to stop. I feel the refridgerated liquid reach the dry corners of my body. I take a deep breath and look up in the cloudless sky. The sun is shining strong today, she seems to be in a good mood. "It's alright," she says, "today is a good day." She never fails to make me smile.
I reach the station and try to think about the last time I had Sprudelwasser as I top up my Oyster Card. Ten pounds, gone. Sucked into a mashine that only knows how to eat and eat and eat. Paper and coins with faces and figures on them. So hard to earn, so easy to spend. They determine people's lives, unbelievable, and yet inevitable, so it seems. The more I think about it the more I get depressed. What am I doing?
Marching down the corridor I'm trying to avoid any aggression by not shoulder tackling all the people who walk in crowded places without care. My train leaves from platform two and, fortunately, I make it on time. I get a decent seat and start reading while the compartment slowly fills with tactless tourists and sweaty sportsmen. For a second I lean back and close my eyes. Breathe. It's alright, today is a good day.
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