The station concourse

Source A: an original contemporary non-fiction-style account.

I arrived at the station early enough to buy coffee and then discovered that every other traveller appeared to have made the same plan. The concourse was crowded, although the departure board still showed most trains running. I stood beside a pillar with my bag between my feet. Above me, an advertisement promised a peaceful weekend somewhere with mountains. Below it, two people were trying to carry a folded pushchair through a space that did not quite exist.

Announcements poured from the ceiling, smooth and untroubled, while the crowd broke around the pillars in impatient little currents. Suitcase wheels stitched a continuous rasp across the floor. A child called for a parent; a phone insisted on being answered; somewhere a cup fell and contributed one bright crack to the general argument. The departure board blinked. Every face lifted towards it, as though the same invisible thread had been pulled beneath a hundred chins. Then the faces dropped and the currents began again.

When our platform appeared, the crowd gathered itself into a single urgent shape. Nobody was running, but everybody seemed to be negotiating with the idea. I was carried towards the barriers by a procession of coats and apologetic elbows. The gate rejected one ticket and the line tightened behind its owner, a spring compressed by seconds. A staff member stepped in, spoke quietly and opened the side gate. The spring loosened. For a moment, the station's immense machinery depended on one person noticing a red-faced stranger and making room.

On the platform, I found a place away from the doors and finally drank the coffee. It was no longer hot. The train had not yet arrived, and the urgency that had filled the concourse seemed strangely premature. Looking back through the glass, I could see another cluster of faces turned towards the board. I had been ready to describe the station as badly organised. Perhaps parts of it were. But I had also watched a calm intervention prevent one small difficulty from becoming everybody's quarrel. I remembered that when the doors opened and I was tempted to push forward.

Refer only to the second and third paragraphs of Source A. Analyse how the writer uses language to present the movement and pressure of the crowd. Support your answer with evidence from these paragraphs.