And so, I find myself closeted inside the toilet of a running train. With a rare moment to speculate. All around me, graffiti has been scratched out on the walls. There is quite a lot of female anatomy with the parts helpfully marked out. There are some male organs scratched out as well. I was also informed that S loves BC, that K is a whore and that GH is a homo. Someone calling himself J had advertised for ‘performance enhancing medicines’ adding his mobile number for anyone interested in his offer. I finish my business, wash my hands and somehow feel compelled to add my own thoughts to this myriad of beliefs, opinions and statements. I find a ball point pen in my handbag and stand there wondering what to say. I cannot recall any witty limericks or riddles. I have few secrets that I’d like to share with my fellow passengers who may use this toilet. As for drawing the female anatomy, my own reference doesn’t serve me very well. Finally, I settle for a single word. I mark out 'STRIFE' in an empty corner. I lean back to admire my work. Oddly satisfied and feeling decidedly better, I dust my hands and deposit the pen back in my bag. As I settle down next to the husband, he looks up at me as if to wonder what took me so long. I sigh gently and look outside at the passing landscape.