You arrive at the big oak door, with two turns of a small green key and the loud click of a lock the door glides open. Light streams through silk curtains and graces your checks. The windows are cracked bringing in the cool ocean air, spinning and twirling the olive green curtains. The floor leads you into the small rectangular room. Gray stone tiles are evenly spread across the dimensions of the room. Not a speck of dust, dirt, or hair is found against the cold floor. It is splattered with splotches of colored carpets that warm your freed toes. The big bed sits fittingly in the middle of the room. A strong chestnut frame carved with twisting vines and blooming flowers surrounds the cloud of lush. At each corner of the bed is a tall post the reaches towards the ceiling. A light pink princess drape hovers over the top of all the corners, water falling down every side of the bed. Creating the perfect nest of comfort surrounded by a screen of blush. You crawl into the neatly made bed. The sheets are a crisp white, blanketed with an intricate flower patterned comfortor. The pillows are fluffed up and wrapped in cream. Your head and your body melt into the heavenly surface. You drift off into dream land with the smells of lavender and cotton circling the room.
You arrive at the two metal doors waiting for the train to come to a complete halt. With the push of the flashing green button the doors abrublty slam open, and your face is hit with a slap of cold air. The night is still and the train station is empty. You follow the foreign signs into the large empty hall. The tile floor is speckled with shoe residue and cigarette butts, and leaves your shoes slightly stuck with every step. The left hand corner of the room is occupied by an old man in a sleeping bag and the right wall is taken by a woman laying on some old boxes. You search the train station for an empty area to turn into home. The corner near the bathroom is open, and there is only a faint smell of piss in the air. You lay out your yoga mat and perch up your backpack against the wall. Intertwining your legs and arms between the straps of everything you own, in hopes that it will still be there when you wake. The blanket is spread over your cold body, a stain covered, factory smelling tapestry that has been strapped to your bag for weeks. A stuff sack filled with dirty clothes will suffice as a pillow.
The floresent lights above send shocks to your brain as you try to keep your eyes closed. Five more hours until the next train, your eyes stay slightly open and on guard as you fall into a half sleep.