Another train and the exodus, like poured concrete through a chute. A press of those in search of a victory, at national or club level. Amongst the hats and scarves, a few passengers laden with luggage, attempting to enter the capital (or beyond). The slight strain on the faces of station security staff as their hi-vis (lime green) vests billow in the freezing snow blown wind. One man attempting to stop a smoker well ahead of him. Gone, like the smoke. The vagaries of certain (by)laws. Dropping litter, spitting…and smoking. The futility and the occasional imposition. Like a convoy ‘zigzagging’ war torn waters in a bid to outrun the perils below, on the surface and above.