Yet, despite the thick grey concrete, the false lighting, and the omnipresent smell of commuters' coffee and fags, this is hardly an oppressive place.
Far from it. Rather, it is quiet, peaceful, and the light streaming in through the thick glass windows above all those unnatural glowing orange orbs creates an unparallelled sense of stillness.
Really, it's not a place of stillness. Of course it's not. It is a place of moving - of transportation, of going to places and coming back. Or going away and never coming back at all. No, the one thing that it's certainly not, is a place for staying still.
Even the clock knows seems to know this - so with that in mind, as it strikes five past five, I board my train and depart.