I can't help but stare out the window this morning. The dark of the tunnels seeps through the dusty windows. It's always one time of day in the subway. We're trapped in this consistent state of night. Of dark. The only day time approaches with each station's lights. Florescent and glaring. Fake, like the dark.
Between Bloor and Rosedale we come above ground. The actual day lights is almost painful to experience, it's harsh compared to the dark I'm used to. It's more of a clear light, in comparison to the yellowish hue from the subway. Subway daytime is such an unflattering light, for anyone, casting depressing shadows down upon people.
I look at people through the reflection in the dark windows. It's easy to get lost in their window souls. Your eyes shift between staring into their lives reflected onto glass adn staring at your own reflection. When we burst from the dark tunnels under the city to forced daytime, the window souls vanish.
I wonder it that's how our lives seem to those around us. One moment we're there. Next we're gone. Just a strange shadow reflected in the window.