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        <title><![CDATA[Stories by Nakai Mirtenbaum on Medium]]></title>
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            <title><![CDATA[No sense or purpouse in a train station]]></title>
            <link>https://medium.com/@nakaimirtenbaum/the-train-station-267bce40ee9d?source=rss-dd4c35f019b1------2</link>
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            <category><![CDATA[literatura]]></category>
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            <dc:creator><![CDATA[Nakai Mirtenbaum]]></dc:creator>
            <pubDate>Sat, 10 Mar 2018 22:48:41 GMT</pubDate>
            <atom:updated>2018-03-11T17:02:22.129Z</atom:updated>
            <content:encoded><![CDATA[<figure><img alt="" src="https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/800/1*uOpmsOoB-DWe-sAZcGOyPg.jpeg" /><figcaption>Calonius, Erik. 1973</figcaption></figure><p>There is no sense of purpouse in a train station, I think to myself each day as I return from wherever, re-building the mitology of home, the anthropological construction of place, whatever you wanna call it. As I seat myself down in the subway trains of this new place that the economical system wants me to conquer, I remember that I am more of an explorer with great sense of wonder; so I just look at you guys, I wonder in your eyes, and finally I write whatever we see in eachother. There is no sense of purpouse in a train station, but a ride to catch from one place to another, from foreign places to home places, again and again in the endless game of finding a place.</p><p>Everybody gathers everyday</p><p>as children</p><p>in the endless game they shall play</p><p>till the end of times.</p><img src="https://medium.com/_/stat?event=post.clientViewed&referrerSource=full_rss&postId=267bce40ee9d" width="1" height="1" alt="">]]></content:encoded>
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