I had a friend who told this story. He’d been to a party and caught the milk train home. In the twelve minutes between stations, he’d fallen asleep, waking only at the sound of seagulls and the smell of the docks. With an hour until the first train back, he’d wandered along the harbour to a café, where he sat with a mug of tea, surrounded by grinning dockers, listening to their hard, low Viking voices. On the train, he watched people getting on at each station with their suits and phones, and thought how landlocked life could be.
(from ‘Buenos Aires, 2am’, winner of the Guardian Unlimited / Azuli Records Late Night Tales Competition, 2007)