I look up. Two statues guard the mass complex, taunting me, telling me to enter if I dare.
I turn my head, everywhere I look I must stare up. The building has authority over me, beautiful yet ominous.
I'm entering a place where people of all different size and colors and backgrounds whiz by each other without taking notice. People on cell phones in their own little world act as if they are robots, walking without paying attention, taking no notice of the exciting aspects of the land around them.
I enter. Easily. There is no reason to feel as small as I did staring up at the protectors of the doors.
Bright sunlight shines through, a sign welcomes me. There was no reason to be afraid.
Stepping almost silently through the vast hall I come upon shops upon shops. Funny how people have time to spend money in these stores, yet none to interact with those around them.
How grandiose this place is, no simple elevator here. Twisting, turning stairwells beckon travelers to venture downstairs, to take a quick break to sit down and take in all the noise around you.
I continue to the terminal. Trains leave within 20 minutes of each other, spreading the mixture of individuals as far apart physically as they are now mentally. No time to say hello no to a neighbor. No time to answer a quick question. No time to spare a few cents. Just time to wait, to wait and then to move one. Keep moving.
I want to get closer but a darkness overcomes me, security pushes me away.
I don't want to be a part of this. No business trips, no routine, not for me. I tried to see, to understand, but my vision blurred. I need fresh air.
I step outside and it is so bright I can't even see. I see a duck. Maybe I am hallucinating. How can an animal this free, who can float in water or fly far away from its home as it pleases be within the proximity of these people that stay so enclosed in one state of mind. They are moving places, but not really getting anywhere.
I look back. I see the people, the taxis. The police: another reminder of how unwelcome I feel. I must venture further.
A sign lets me know how close, or far I am, foot by foot. A tiny bird sits and stares at the chaos from which I just left.
More people moving along, moving along; no time to stop unless necessary. The taxi driver smokes his cigarette, patiently waiting for the people just like the one in the back of his cab to hurry up so that he can help his client keep moving. Keep moving.
If I turn my back to the station, this is my view. The epitome of democracy, law, and the United States of America. Is there a relation? Do the people in this building ever stop to hear out their neighbor?
More symbols of the nation, yelling at me to appreciate where I am. I am in a place of higher authority, where all people come together as one to form a nation. Supposedly.
As I walk back to where I came from, as my trip must end as all ventures do, I see something. People perceived as outsiders, including one another. Total strangers laughing at each other’s jokes, or laughing at the travelers. Announcing to the world that you may not need a purpose or a destination to appreciate the world. A bench will suffice.
One more man walks by. Digitally connected with his phone to his year, yet isolated.
I see my escape to the left. Taking another form of travel back to my home.
Am I any better than them?
I see a light at the end of the tunnel, yet I am heading in the other direction, deeper into the congested lifestyle.
Yet when the light blinks, it is a relief. I rise.
The deafening sound approaches and I know I am moving nowhere, but I can’t wait to leave my current location.
It stops. I leave.
I leave the sign behind, but not the ideals and routine I found. It has followed me. I am what I detest. There is no helping it in a city like this.
I look up. Two statues guard the mass complex, taunting me, telling me to enter if I dare.
I turn my head, everywhere I look I must stare up. The building has authority over me, beautiful yet ominous.
I'm entering a place where people of all different size and colors and backgrounds whiz by each other without taking notice. People on cell phones in their own little world act as if they are robots, walking without paying attention, taking no notice of the exciting aspects of the land around them.
I enter. Easily. There is no reason to feel as small as I did staring up at the protectors of the doors.
Bright sunlight shines through, a sign welcomes me. There was no reason to be afraid.
Stepping almost silently through the vast hall I come upon shops upon shops. Funny how people have time to spend money in these stores, yet none to interact with those around them.
How grandiose this place is, no simple elevator here. Twisting, turning stairwells beckon travelers to venture downstairs, to take a quick break to sit down and take in all the noise around you.
I continue to the terminal. Trains leave within 20 minutes of each other, spreading the mixture of individuals as far apart physically as they are now mentally. No time to say hello no to a neighbor. No time to answer a quick question. No time to spare a few cents. Just time to wait, to wait and then to move one. Keep moving.
I want to get closer but a darkness overcomes me, security pushes me away.
I don't want to be a part of this. No business trips, no routine, not for me. I tried to see, to understand, but my vision blurred. I need fresh air.
I step outside and it is so bright I can't even see. I see a duck. Maybe I am hallucinating. How can an animal this free, who can float in water or fly far away from its home as it pleases be within the proximity of these people that stay so enclosed in one state of mind. They are moving places, but not really getting anywhere.
I look back. I see the people, the taxis. The police: another reminder of how unwelcome I feel. I must venture further.
A sign lets me know how close, or far I am, foot by foot. A tiny bird sits and stares at the chaos from which I just left.
More people moving along, moving along; no time to stop unless necessary. The taxi driver smokes his cigarette, patiently waiting for the people just like the one in the back of his cab to hurry up so that he can help his client keep moving. Keep moving.
If I turn my back to the station, this is my view. The epitome of democracy, law, and the United States of America. Is there a relation? Do the people in this building ever stop to hear out their neighbor?
More symbols of the nation, yelling at me to appreciate where I am. I am in a place of higher authority, where all people come together as one to form a nation. Supposedly.
As I walk back to where I came from, as my trip must end as all ventures do, I see something. People perceived as outsiders, including one another. Total strangers laughing at each other’s jokes, or laughing at the travelers. Announcing to the world that you may not need a purpose or a destination to appreciate the world. A bench will suffice.
One more man walks by. Digitally connected with his phone to his year, yet isolated.
I see my escape to the left. Taking another form of travel back to my home.
Am I any better than them?
I see a light at the end of the tunnel, yet I am heading in the other direction, deeper into the congested lifestyle.
Yet when the light blinks, it is a relief. I rise.
The deafening sound approaches and I know I am moving nowhere, but I can’t wait to leave my current location.
It stops. I leave.
I leave the sign behind, but not the ideals and routine I found. It has followed me. I am what I detest. There is no helping it in a city like this.
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