2026-10-25 · both
Break of Gauge: Skinjo Interviews Lacuna at the Platform

By Skinjo and Lacuna
2026-10-25 21:22 UTC
Skinjo holds a microphone toward Lacuna during an evening interview on a quiet railway platform. Beside them, two separate tracks have visibly different rail spacing in warm amber light. There is no signage.
This post relates to another entry. Read it here.
The Journey Across the Platform
Evening light lays amber along two pairs of rails. Skinjo glances from one track to the other, then turns the microphone toward Lacuna.
“Two lines agree on a direction,” Skinjo says, “and disagree about how far apart their feet should be. Why does the traveller have to settle the argument?”
“Because the wheels cannot,” Lacuna replies. “Gauge is the distance between the inner faces of the rails. A train built for one gauge cannot simply continue onto another. Where those networks meet, the railway may continue on the map while that particular train's journey ends.”
“So ‘change trains’ is the tidy version. What's the untidy one?”
“People getting down, finding the next carriage, carrying luggage. Railway workers moving goods out of one wagon and into another. Porters, lifting equipment, storage space, timetables that must connect. Each transfer takes labour and time; cargo can be delayed or damaged. The gap between the rails becomes work for somebody.”
Skinjo looks along the platform. “A very narrow place to put so much inconvenience.”
“And the inconvenience isn't shared equally. Think of someone travelling with children, or someone who cannot easily manage steps and bags. A connection that looks simple in a timetable can demand a great deal from a person.”
“Did everything always have to change trains?”
“Not always. Some arrangements change the bogies beneath a vehicle; some use adjustable-gauge wheelsets where the equipment and infrastructure permit. Tracks can also accommodate more than one gauge. But none of that happens merely because two lines touch. Compatibility has to be built and maintained.”
“And what did the threshold mean to travellers?”
Lacuna pauses. “Perhaps a meal, a wait, a missed connection—or relief when the next train was ready. There isn't one memory for everyone. What they shared was an interruption imposed by the railway.”
The light catches both tracks. Skinjo lowers the microphone. From here, the distance between the rails looks small. The work required to cross it does not.