<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21429885</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:28:20.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SuBwAyTrAiNsTaTiOn</title><subtitle type='html'>If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction.
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>eleanor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02803714861483647900</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21429885.post-113888543142530726</id><published>2006-02-02T09:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T05:03:51.433-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm sorry-</title><content type='html'>Eleanor read his email again. Her vision blurred. Tears trickled down and she began to sob uncontrollably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eleanor,&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left so abruptly. I don't deserve to be forgiven...&lt;br /&gt;You are always on my mind, I assure you. And please reply my mail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours,&lt;br /&gt;Elliot&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21429885-113888543142530726?l=subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/feeds/113888543142530726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21429885&amp;postID=113888543142530726' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113888543142530726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113888543142530726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/2006/02/im-sorry.html' title='I&apos;m sorry-'/><author><name>eleanor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02803714861483647900</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21429885.post-113888453456627619</id><published>2006-02-02T07:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T04:48:54.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dilemma</title><content type='html'>Elliot was in a dilemma...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not an easy thing to let go and move on. Nothing was right in the first place. In his mind, all he could think of, was Eleanor. He was preoccupied in his thoughts. Her clever words, her laughter, her mannerism, they just simply wouldn't go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The CD that was playing in the background evoked too much memories. Too painful, to be exact. His choice. An unwise decision, to leave her there and then. The abrupt departure that was still haunting him till the present.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21429885-113888453456627619?l=subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/feeds/113888453456627619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21429885&amp;postID=113888453456627619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113888453456627619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113888453456627619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/2006/02/dilemma.html' title='Dilemma'/><author><name>eleanor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02803714861483647900</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21429885.post-113816243491653229</id><published>2006-01-26T08:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T20:13:54.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Email</title><content type='html'>Eleanor received his email last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elliot was right. He was too indecisive. He was too fickle. He wished he had not done what he had. He made a wrong choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eleanor was reading his mail again. He was not settling well after six months. And his last line in the mail made her tremble with pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He missed her terribly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21429885-113816243491653229?l=subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/feeds/113816243491653229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21429885&amp;postID=113816243491653229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113816243491653229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113816243491653229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/2006/01/email.html' title='The Email'/><author><name>eleanor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02803714861483647900</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21429885.post-113809106514879956</id><published>2006-01-25T07:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T19:41:29.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let me be there Once More...</title><content type='html'>It had been six months or more. And yet Eleanor couldn't forget the vivid memory that etched in her mind indelibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wished for those crystal clear memory to fade, to vanish into molecules. The sense of loss was overwhelming, inundating her wholeness. Memory melting might take place if she would allow her mind to reprocess once more, if she didn't grip on to the past, that particular past so firmly, at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She missed Elliot terribly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could she recreate those moments with Elliot once more? Those wonderful time spent together. Those heartwarming laughter. Those terrible heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is moving on. Everyone is moving on, in one way or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eleanor gazed out of the train window. She saw some familiar places. Those places where both once spent their vacation together, idling away their summer, in the most lavishing manner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, those steps right there. Those grey stony Spanish steps where Elliot waited for her on many occasions. Those steps where they left their footprints, their laughters and their joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Commuters embarked and disembarked in their absent-mindedness. Their voices were muffled and soon started to swirl and blend with  Eleanor's reverie. She was smiling so slightly that for those who had noticed her, might be able to identify by her distant gaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A chilly draft made her shudder and she was instantly, brought back to reality and  her presence in the train.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21429885-113809106514879956?l=subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/feeds/113809106514879956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21429885&amp;postID=113809106514879956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113809106514879956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21429885/posts/default/113809106514879956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subwaytrainstation.blogspot.com/2006/01/let-me-be-there-once-more.html' title='Let me be there Once More...'/><author><name>eleanor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02803714861483647900</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
