Time seems to stop every time I stand on the platform. People stop walking, trains stop moving.
I stand there wondering what the fuck did I just do to land in this hell.
I’m ready to start busting caps into asses.
It tends to feel that way when you step into the subway.
It tends to feel as though it will last a lifetime in there.
What do you do with your time while you wait?
I try to notice the faces that are frozen in place.
The sad ones, the happy ones, the raging screaming man to the ready to punch a train in the face woman who is running just a few minutes late.
Each one with their own individual story, different live’s, different backgrounds, some with the same purpose, some with the same dreams.
Some with expressions so vivid that you instantly know where they’ve come from and where they’ll head.
It took me some time to realize that being stuck in time isn’t a curse of any means.
It’s an opportunity to witness the history of those around you.
It’s a chance to see that no matter how different we are… Actually, you begin to realize that maybe all of us in this chaotic world, are not so different from each other.
I guess I’m just talking crazy.