Subway walking

Tired and wet, I walked through the subway today, in the midst of Monday morning rush hour. Everyone was intent to reach their destination, to escape the stifled air below.

I felt myself shutting down senses and the masses became a blur but the bodies moving in slow motion. Some people were intent to keep their heads down, iPods in their ears, skinny jeans pasted to their legs, scarf thrown carelessly around their necks, a stony expression on their faces. Less will look you in the eye, and when they do, I was still surprised that they seem like they're really looking, seeing, assessing. Others wear a vacant, cool look in their eyes, artfully donning the city "personality" as if they don't care, and maybe they don't. Or they're just used to the stares and probes and find this an easier way to maneuver through the streets. When I'm alone, I, too, am like them, wearing a mask that's necessary to deal with the assault on the senses. These people are anonymous, original, commonplace, pawns.