Kontula Station

The glass doors open on their own,
Above them, on a red stripe,Ā
is the station name
In white letters,
As you walk through the opening,
There are metallic bins to the right
Along with a photo booth
Noises of voices and machines fill your earsĀ
Like background musicĀ
Before you make your way past the ticket machinesĀ
to the steel escalatorsĀ
Ā Gliding down to the station floorĀ
Where the walls are silver,Ā
Between the glass entry and exit doorsĀ
There is an elevatorĀ
As you walk through the entrance,Ā
There is a final set of glass doorsĀ
Before you arrive at the platformĀ
There you are greeted by vending machinesĀ
And times for each of the trainsĀ
The smell of oil and coffee hits your nose
With people sitting or conversingĀ
Pinkish-grey concrete that is pristineĀ
With drains
Between wooden benchesĀ
Lines the floor of the stationĀ
Between two different sets of train lines
With brown dirt across them,Ā
At the top of the walls are pieces of 80s graffiti,Ā
The middle of the walls are covered in the same red and white stripes.Ā
As can be seen outside,
But with greenish maps sitting underneathĀ
The further you enter,
The more that you can see,
Another set of escalatorsĀ
Beyond that are grey pillars with touches of age and black graffitiĀ
In the middle sits a series of elevators
Until you reach a large map to the left with a set of circular bins
Mounted on a pillar at the endĀ
There are exit signs,
With a set of concrete stairs at the bottom,
A green growth spilling out of its sidesĀ
At this point, you only hear the wheels of the trains passing by
Each train is orange and black,
With porcelain bicycle symbols on them
It's paint reflecting the grimy yellow lights above our heads
As the digital destinations repeat on the back,
Of each black message board
As if they are saying:
Welcome to Kontula.

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Comments
Thankyou for the journey x
You are very welcome :)Ā