Stories I Wrote While the City of London Devoured Me
Expiring Like dogs who drag themselves out of the house and crawl to a corner of the garden to die, there are people in this city who, sensing their vitality is at its end, descend to the underground rail network, take a seat on a 24-hour train, and ride through the tunnels until they expire. They board the carriage alive. Their body alights when they have died. What happens to their spirit down in the tunnels is anyone’s guess. Sometimes I wonder if the trains’ howls are the sound of their souls being ground into the dust that blackens our nostrils. Other times I don’t wonder anything at all. Some of those who take to the trains for their final moments wish to prolong the experience. Food and water sustains them for days or weeks as they ride softly toward their fate. Others prefer to meet their end like the trains hurtling down these tunnels—rapidly, brutally, and without comfort. In either case, their bodies often ride the trains for days aft...