Currently Playing: Keane - Atlantic.
Lutfi had a look through my UK files once. He says that the next
time I get the rare opportunity to travel abroad, I should make it a point
to take a photo of myself for a change.
Now where’s the fun in that?
At The Dalmeny Railway Station
June 2006
Last year, a friend and I took a day’s trip down to Manchester by train from Edinburgh. During the whole journey back, the carriages were practically empty so I chose an empty seat where I could get a good view of the English countryside. I sat and twisted about in my chair, holding the camera up at different angles but no good shots were coming through. Not prepared to give up, the only position where I could get decent snaps was to sit on the chair backwards, feet cross-legged up on the seat.
So I did.
The entire time, a bloke sitting across the aisle from me stared openly, in an obvious state of bewilderment. I didn’t know which caused it; my incapability of sitting properly or my hijab. He kept looking over with a somewhat worried expression on his face. Or maybe it was indecision on whether to ask me what the devil was I doing. Rest assured, he didn’t feel it necessary enough to hop over and ask if I had a bomb on me.
We never talked despite his continued curious looks. The train ride lasted a good few hours, but he didn’t say a single word. He just sat there, throwing inquiring glances.
I don’t know why I suddenly thought of him today.
People really are fascinating things.
I wonder how he is today.
Enough said here.
I just hope it wasn’t the hijab.
