Nowhere Slow. 9:50 pm. Waiting for the express trains to pass. Passengers exit, some stand in the doorways, cigarette smoke drifts in with the bugs and others insects. The creeps look for girls to sit close to, the insects bang against the fluoro lights or abandon hope, dropping to the floor or down the...
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My connecting train cuts by the coastline. On this Monday morning commute, the view from the window offers an adventure that is not for me or the man with the briefcase. We glance quickly at the sail boats and nearby islands as if we are looking at a woman’s cleavage or a solar eclipse, wisely looking away before the feelings of pain and waves...
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Bicycles and street style.
