ON THE WAY TO MANCHESTER AIRPORT
There were dark shapes contorted in the window. They moved the opposite way to the train, running time backwards on itself. Houses came up as disfigured ghosts, shielding away from the lights of the carriage. At every station there was a reflection of myself on the platform, as drained as I felt. Slower and slower the train took off.
MANCHESTER AIRPORT TERMINAL
So they finally turn the train lights on
and you leave the platform, it is 11.43
and the warmth of the carriage holds
you like an answered prayer