Four Foot Eight

Oxford Circus

The station entrances are all open, but there's nobody in sight. Outside on Oxford Street, only silence.

The ticket office is open and brightly lit, but there's nobody behind the counter. Ticket machines stand ready but idle as the barriers stand a lonely guard.

Down the running but deserted escalators we fly, past advertisements that nobody sees. The normally crowded spaces underneath echo eerily as their bright fluorescent illumination seems dazzlingly bright in the absence of the usual crowds.

A Bakerloo Line train stands in the southbound platform with its doors wide open. Bags and newspapers lie scattered around the cars and platform, the passengers who own them nowhere in sight. A discarded coffee cup rolls across the platform and drops onto the line.

Originally written 12th September 2001