Crying in the Metro on the Way Back Home

Embracing my awareness of time and fleeting moments

“In a Station of the Metro” by Ezra Pound:

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

I seem to always cry in public, when I am going on a walk, between breakfast and lunch, in a crowd full of people and many times in the metro, on my way back home. I often hear my entourage tell me : “You do not look like somebody who cries a lot”. I often laugh at this remark and nod without denying nor justifying it further. The irony of it all is that I rarely cry in the middle of dramatic or tragic situations but I often find myself tearing up in busy crowds or between the fleeting minutes of my most mundane moments. A lot of times, just like yesterday in the early evening, I found myself crying in the metro. I find comfort in crying in that hectic yet banal environment.

I do not know if I should qualify it as a good or bad thing but I have always been very aware of the passing of time and everything that surrounds it — I have always had an incredible long-term memory and an intuitive approach to my perception of time and space. I often define it as both a blessing and a curse, I remember details that my loved ones seem to neglect and there are neurobehavioral and psychological reasonings behind this that I will not get into. I will simply laugh at myself and my perception of time and tell you it is because I am ruled by Saturn (Cronos), the lord of Time. I find solace in crying in the metro. To me, it is the perfect place to be reminded of the passing of time. The metro seems to be a place between alienation and familiarity, just like memories are. I believe that is why I find myself crying there, I am reminded of time more than ever which reminds me of past memories which remind me of who I am. It is silly to admit but the metro has become an extension of my memories, a spiritual epicentre of the purging of my emotions.

In the metro, I am reminded of life, and I am reminded of death. People seem to dance and flirt with time and space as they enter the doors of the wagons. I am reminded of life because I see her children live. I am reminded of memories because I wonder what have these people lived that I have lived and I have yet to live. Perhaps it is also the strange realization that I exist, in this time and space, as I see everybody else existing around me. I am not sure if this qualifies me as a romantic, a nostalgic or an eternal child. One thing I am sure of is that I am grateful for sentimental moments like this one of me crying in the metro on the way home. I am also embracing my awareness of time because I am able to daydream, I am able to live and do everything else in between the two.

I watch people walk through the doors and I am overwhelmed by how beautiful mundanity can be. I am reminded to be grateful for time, to be grateful for every moment life has gifted to me, to be grateful for growing up, to be grateful for everything that has ended, to be grateful for every right timing I thought was wrong, to be grateful for every person who chooses to share their existence with me, to be grateful to be alive.

And today I am grateful for my tears and every crying session I have had in the metro. Trust me…there were many!

Salma

*All of my content is always free to access. If you feel like supporting me in any way shape or form, consider sharing my publications with your community and/or leaving a comment, a thought or even just an emoji*