He said we had time before the poles came down.

Three and a half pardons later and I understood the poles to be the booms at the level crossing 50 meters down line from his makeshift home.

Standing ground level and inches away from a thundering train is ominous. The weight and suffocating smell of steel reverberated through my body; it seems effortless to step in front of a speeding train and a brave way to end one’s life. That nanosecond feeling again daring me to try. It’s the same prod when standing on top of a high-rise, a faint tug of war between brain and leg with the brain thankfully winning each time.

He picked up his shopping cart’s hood ornament and I shot like a madman, I wanted to be off the rails before the poles came down again.