Central line

a London scene

Mar 30, 2026

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i’m now very aware of my own humanity, sitting on the noisy central line, arms wrapped round my stomach because i have cramps. ever since seeing that video of a man doing something unspeakable on a northern line seat, i’ve become a lot more conscious of all the dirt and dust settled in the royal blue of the fabric. i’m boldly coming to the conclusion that the man directly opposite me is somebody i’d get on well with, if it were acceptable to break the fourth wall on the tube. i think this because we keep accidentally making eye contact as we both look round the carriage with seemingly similar levels of bemusement. his feet are tapping to music and i notice mine are too. we each wear awkward smirks, watching the sketchers, the scrollers, the readers, the commuters, and the elderly women loudly catching up.

i’m wearing pink headphones – everyone else in this carriage appears to be an owner of airpods. maybe it’s ego or paranoia, but i think the man next to me is looking over my shoulder, trying to read what i’m writing on my notes app. self-conscious, i abruptly click my phone shut. anyway, returning to this note now he’s gone – what was i saying?? right, humanity. i don’t know. i guess a city built on assumptions instead of spoken interactions is supposed to be cold and lonely. but despite the way i hide my words on this train, i can’t help but find some warmth and comfort in the way we’re all existing alongside each other – dressed differently, possessing plans that are poles apart, but all taking the same central line journey. all deeply human, while absorbed in our own digital worlds built by individual tastes.

my world sounds like taylor swift; indie pop; sapphic anthems; glittery gold and violet. the man opposite’s world probably sounds loud with bass – startling scarlet and silver echoing passionately. another assumption i’m making, instead of asking, as the train rattles in this tunnel, like we could disappear into a sci-fi scene at any given minute; clutching red poles, holding on for dear life as we crash into the unknown – at which point, who here would be the first to take out their airpods and speak?

i get off the tube in the same old silly haste that london always expects to see from me – i secretly love temporarily adopting it, wondering if i’m carrying the aura of someone who breathes this route like it’s routine. when i’m suddenly surrounded by a lot of space – a rather unfamiliar concept in this place – i want to skip, so i skip. i pause my music as i pass a man peacefully playing the piano in king’s cross station, and i watch as a woman smiles at the sight of him, the same way i can’t help but do. i know this city is characterised by misery but it’s also got hope on every street, and inside every musky tube carriage. i swear in the moment, what’s so ordinary, feels like the centre of the world. caught completely in its middle, i wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else.

i don’t want to skip a single scene.