there's something about this place
I see it every time I step into a crowded subway.
The camera pans out -- from a single, slender focal figure to a group, then a crowd, then a population. Then to the veins and arteries of transit, the anthill skyscrapers, the stubbornly aimless yellows that blur under stoplights, by street signs, through blind mobs. The routes' white lines are crowded out by foot and wheel. Crowds crouding out crowds.
But all in complete silence. Stubborn, shameful silence. While the sun rages above, we bounce into one another without a word -- save for the rare "excuse me." As soon as the sun falls, we drink enough to stumble into one another without accident. We fall into each other's arms at night and follow up with a curt "excuse me" the next morning.
Only the homeless and senile talk to strangers. Why are we ashamed?
The camera pans out -- from a single, slender focal figure to a group, then a crowd, then a population. Then to the veins and arteries of transit, the anthill skyscrapers, the stubbornly aimless yellows that blur under stoplights, by street signs, through blind mobs. The routes' white lines are crowded out by foot and wheel. Crowds crouding out crowds.
But all in complete silence. Stubborn, shameful silence. While the sun rages above, we bounce into one another without a word -- save for the rare "excuse me." As soon as the sun falls, we drink enough to stumble into one another without accident. We fall into each other's arms at night and follow up with a curt "excuse me" the next morning.
Only the homeless and senile talk to strangers. Why are we ashamed?
posted by Anton at 9:09 AM
