Nothing here today but a mobile phone and a Japanese lady's tartan scarf. The flats edge away from the burning gash of late-afternoon sun, casting giant shadows across the suburb. Slabs of darkness fall over the houses and streets, eclipsing out half of the residents and maybe bringing out hidden dark sides only visible at this hour every day. And it's time to turn over, new music that all the passengers can enjoy the run-off from. The white line of foam chewing at the shoreline is visible just long enough to get you feeling poetic until the grim sensibility of North Fremantle squelches the romance with squat stacked containers and wandering baggy-pants boys.
Ragged plants watch the train yawning slowly through the gravelled twilight.
Dull metallic ripples shake back and forth, deviously hiding the depth from anyone who bothers to wonder about it. The unloading docks, thousands of shining new cars lined up in rows like orderly beetles, ready and willing to increase the smog cloud and choke a few more asthmatics. The black plastic handrails become swings as the blinding light flickers through the shapes on the opposite banks. Old self-storage sheds and friendships are being made. Slllleeeeeessshhhhhhhh another journey begins in direct opposition to the ending of this one, the second train speeding past in a flicker of reflection.