The tunnels flit past and with them the flip book advertisements of Techniccan harmony. Beings in communion with the sublime of mountain pastures. Drovers moving their herds and flocks between meadows. Chiaroscuro skies highlighting little moments of the mundane as the worlds continue about their courses.
I see my own reflection in the train's window upon our own return to the light. My hair is limp, my eyes swallowed by nights of poor sleep. My skin pale in the daylight and dead in the fluorescent tunnels. There’s little to show, to say, to acknowledge me as a living being beyond my own reactions to the advertisements.
But then the train pulls into the station and I am stirred into motion with the other passengers. The motion of our journey transferred to our feet as we set about the day. We’re a kinetic force carried forward to our waiting days.
Maybe one of these days that motion will carry me into a Techniccan temple. Just not today.
Today’s artwork is courtesy of Frantisek Sverak from Prague, Czech Republic.