The station sits in the heart of the city, but it is mostly forgotten. A few passengers still shuffle through its sun-bleached doors, or seek refuge in the coolness of the lobby. These are not the urbane commuters you see in bustling airports or on sleek highways. Their luggage is broken and ragged, their clothing from some indefinable period. Occasionally, there is a glimpse of the station master or a bewildered-looking conductor. Are these flesh-and-blood travelers … in the here and now? Or are they permanent residents of the crumbling station, arising spectrally from the echoes of deep time? Welcome to the enchanted station.