danielbedingfield

A gang of young Asian men, smoking and loping; one speaks into a mobile phone. Up the platform then back again, unsmiling. Their urban street-wear contrasts with the grey remoteness of this place:�has Omsk seen bright white shoes, before? Across a collar of one of their black jackets, the word "Adidas" carefully woven in white. Theyapos;re going home, I�suppose, like I�am. Meanwhile, a Russian walks along the train, clanging a rod against its wheels, causing a chime-like ringing. I�follow the Asians back onto their carriage: next-door to mine, and identical to it.
danielbedingfield, danielbeddingfield, danielaspanic, danielash.org.