Scenes from Victoria Station Pt. 1

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

It was a cold morning on Sept 8 that I was standing at one of the train platforms in London's Victoria Station. It's big, old and has signs of a quite elegant and brilliant past. Of which only signs remain, I stress. Modernity has attacked at it now looks like an old formal English lady stuffed full of McDonalds and Subways restaurants. I was there on the platform saying goodbye to my boyfriend, he was on his way to Tijuana, Mexico (our hometown) for a month. Behind he was leaving an engineering project (which I had to take charge of and I was notified of this one day prior to his departure) and his mate, who had traveled across the Atlantic to be with him. He was leaving his side to be at his own mother's side, to be with his family and to help out an ex-girlfriend by bureaucratically marrying her into a life of legality in the United States. Needless to say, I had mixed feelings about his departure. As we said our final goodbye and wished our final good wishes and he walked away I suddenly felt the weight of my present situation, I felt extremely alone in a huge city I didn't know very well, I felt the crushing responsibility of a project I knew very little about, I felt scared, hopeless, tired, depressed, I felt myself about to step over into the precipice of utter despair... then I turned around and faced Victoria Station, that awkward mixture of Imperial era eloquence and frivolous contemporary commercialism, and I made a decision. I chose to face the city and my present situation and not look back on what I was loosing. I decided to take on life and not give into weakness. "Battle mode" was turned on and I diligently made my way out of that "dodgy" old building, ready to bulldoze my way over anything that stood in my path.

(To be continued)

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