Observations in a train

There's an unusual lot of people inside this train. No space left on the seats, many people, like me, are forced to stand whether it makes them feel degraded or not, nobody asks. They probably think the homeless guy who's trying to sell his newspaper to the consum-sated travellers has a harder life than any of them. Still, one guy squeezes himself into a little space on the seats but by doing this he accidentally bumps into a young woman who in return looks really annoyed and readjusts her headphones. While I'm writing this herr forehead is still in wrinkles. Talking of "while I'm writing this.." it must look strange indeed, me standing in the middle of this underground train with a little pad of paper in my hand, writing, looking up for inspiration from time to time. One guy standing next to me is actually reading along, I'm quite sure, hello you, can you read this? Why don't you talk to me? People are strange. I just asked him why he keeps staring at me but he just smiled in silence. Whatever. Now he left the train and an old woman with one of those Russian fur hats has come into my view. Her lips look like she's a stubborn person and life has imprinted many worries into her face, though she probably looks much different when she smiles.
Alexanderplatz, she got out. So will I, in a moment.
(29th Dec. around 6 p.m.)