Clapham Junction, 9 am.
It is a gloomy and windy morning on the platform 11 and the train to Kingston Upon Thames is delayed.
Close to me, a girl with black hair, blue eyes and a mix of coloured clothes on top is leaning next to the wall. She looks very tired and annoyed, she yawns, and sips the take away coffee.
She holds a book with very old yellowed pages. She reads The House of The Spirits by Isabel Allende. She reads every now and then, distracted by the people around her and by the time which for her appears to have been stopped. Then, her train arrives and she leaves the platform happily.
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