Earlier this afternoon, I experienced one of those situations where time seems to stand still, and you don’t fully process what happened until after everything is over. The scene is this: downstairs in the Guy-Concordia metro station, around 4pm local time. The narrator of the story walks down the last flight of stairs to see the train on the opposite side pulling away, and settles in to wait for his own train to arrive by leaning against the wall. Enter stage left, on the opposite side of the railway from our narrator, an old man who bears a passing resemblance to a much older and less-well-kept George Carlin. The man is apparently homeless and seems mentally unstable, as he has been spotted in the very same metro station before. He is also very animated, perhaps even drunk, as on both occasions he has taken to waving his arms and flailing about, grumbling and shouting at nothing in particular.

Having finished waving and shouting at the departed train, the old man now returns to his flailing and dancing. After a few moments of this however he seems to tire, and moves to sit down on the floor. He then takes another few steps, and sits down on the very edge of the platform, with his legs dangling a few feet above the railway.

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