At the end of days, we sit by aisles and windows In crowded carriages, coming home. And against the dark, above the parallel track, Our mirrored images flutter by oblivious, Like matched markings on a wing Joined only by the thin thorax of the glass... This seemed to be about more than one man on a train. This was about a moment - in transit - of our condition, confined by habit and rushing ignorantly towards our destiny. The 21st century commuter on his phone could also be one in Plato's cave 2000 years ago. Here he is on his moulded plastic seat, lit by artificial light, hooked into virtual worlds, while the real world hurtles past him unobserved. It seemed a view both commonplace and iconic. Ironically, I was also attracted to his yellow-striped socks, his green corduroy trousers and his stylish shiny brown shoes. His seat seems to float in mid-air and he is in a world of his own. In the midst of life ... |