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Monday morning’s train commute to work

12 November 2010

Groans, shrieks, knocking, squealing wind–we could be traveling through a haunted house instead of sitting on a train watching the sun awaken the west coast of Australia and the Indian Ocean. The water is dotted with transport ships, orange and white vessels that sit near the horizon line, one much closer as it’s on its way out. Two kayakers paddle past, looking miniature next to the massive hunks of metal. In the sky, one long, thick line of cloud rests what appears to be two inches above the ocean on the horizon, creating a striped effect. One stripe dark blue ocean, one stripe bright white sky, one stripe deep gray cloud. The cloud continues towards us, covering the whole sky save for that thin stripe on the horizon. A cushiony layer, as if we were all children playing with one of those round, multi-coloured parachutes, each holding on to our portion of fabric, lifting it into the air on the count of three, then lowering it over ourselves so that it floats in the air above us like a dome. Each of us huddled underneath, against the edges, holding our straps, afraid to breathe lest we suck away the air keeping the parachute from falling in on us.

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