Half the railway station platform housed refugees from many elsewheres, who, along with the local homeless, happened to be blocking four of the five doorways leading onto the platform.  He should have stayed in the flow to the open doorway, but veered off and walked to the very last door against which a mass of humanity was pushing.  It was an instinctive turn that surprised even him, so he assumed in himself a desire to take a closer look at the people.  Quickly enough, authoritative voices began to redirect him, and he managed only a split-second glimpse through the pane glass of the last door.  He was stunned by what he was able to see in that fraction of a glimpse.  He didn’t see the seeming docility of the people; he saw two sides on the verge of assaulting each other across an imaginary line.  It was in their postures.  They were a bedraggled and exhausted people on too acute an alert.  All the same, as a ticket holder, there was also the urgency to walk through the open doorway to catch a train.  The moments till he settled into a seat eluded him later, but what didn’t was the promise he then made, upon looking out the window and seeing his view blocked by trains, to never shy away from a look, however quick or slight it be, to stay always aware, even when achingly impotent.