Train Sketch

A guard today - a young man with painted wooden arm, ending in an metal hook that opens and closes. He clamps my ticket in the hook while he clips it. I find it difficult not to stare at him during the rest of the journey - I wonder how the hook works - I imagine it wired to his nervous system. Machinery and biology intertwined; I crane to see the point wear the Arm meets his, just above the hem of his shirt sleeve.

He has a beard. He's uncomfortable, glancing around too much.

In between stops he picks up a book, tucks it under his wooden/hook arm. It's a spy novel.