Really good! “Wriggling like a bad meal inside the metal belly of the train” is particularly vivid. The same visceral feelings work for the NYC subway, though I think it’s less cosmopolitan
Thank you Ted! Your support means a lot. And I love how the same feeling can echo in different parts of the world - it makes writing extra special for me 💜
After I read this, I imagined what If as a form, this writing would be better without paragraphs and let them become a rush hour-ish. It must feel like words are melding.
I am amazed by the vivid image of a train and station in the most crowded and hectic time. I feel like I am inside that metal belly of a steel dragon
I LOVED all your descriptions in this piece! Especially "wriggling like a bad meal inside the metal belly of the train." In the handful of minutes I was reading, I felt like I was breathing the same air as the narrator.
Bada, bada. Words of claustrophobia squeezed out of mouths with descriptions that no sari can hide in the throat or throngs of human kindness where no violence is mentioned. People peacefully go their way towards homes or work. A transit system that melts down to the world in a rush to find perhaps a space where two take the plunge to nuzzling heads and romance blooms in the dark tunnel of chaos or chance. Then the light turns on. Day breaks. The illumination in your writing awakes the plunge of sunset.
really puts me there, love it!
Ah, I'm so glad! thanks for reading
This like a prose poem. Love it.
Thank you LeeAnn!
I am lucky enough to read such a masterpiece perfectly weaved with needed adverbs and adjectives at free of cost. Thanks.
Wow, I appreciate it, Anadi! Thanks for reading ☺️
Really good! “Wriggling like a bad meal inside the metal belly of the train” is particularly vivid. The same visceral feelings work for the NYC subway, though I think it’s less cosmopolitan
Thank you Ted! Your support means a lot. And I love how the same feeling can echo in different parts of the world - it makes writing extra special for me 💜
After I read this, I imagined what If as a form, this writing would be better without paragraphs and let them become a rush hour-ish. It must feel like words are melding.
I am amazed by the vivid image of a train and station in the most crowded and hectic time. I feel like I am inside that metal belly of a steel dragon
That’s a really cool idea, Danny! Thanks for that. If you ever attempt a rush hour piece without paragraphs, I would love to read it.
Thanks for reading and for your comment!
I LOVED all your descriptions in this piece! Especially "wriggling like a bad meal inside the metal belly of the train." In the handful of minutes I was reading, I felt like I was breathing the same air as the narrator.
Oh my gosh! Thank you for this generous comment, I’m really moved ❤️
Wonderful writing, I felt dropped right into the scene and my senses felt it all.
Wow thanks Amy! I’m glad I could take you there
Good description. I'm right there, claustrophobic & overwhelmed. I'm with Don - ready for the book!
Omg, too kind Karen!
loved every word of this, i genuinely felt as though i was there!!
thank you dru! means a ton!
Wonderful writing, Anagha. I'm proud to witness your writing career as it grows. I will be first in line for your first published book!
Oh, I'm so touched Don! This is a huge, huge compliment.
Your vivid writing put me right into the scene, Anagha. It was a full sensory experience. Brilliantly written!
I really appreciate it Conny! I'm so glad I was able to put you into the scene. Thank you for reading <3
Beautiful described.
Thank you so much Sandolores!
Bada, bada. Words of claustrophobia squeezed out of mouths with descriptions that no sari can hide in the throat or throngs of human kindness where no violence is mentioned. People peacefully go their way towards homes or work. A transit system that melts down to the world in a rush to find perhaps a space where two take the plunge to nuzzling heads and romance blooms in the dark tunnel of chaos or chance. Then the light turns on. Day breaks. The illumination in your writing awakes the plunge of sunset.