Sat there, I couldn't help but feel disconnected to those around me. There's only so little communication one can expect in this city, between yourself and those who are strangers to you, but on that train- it became uncanny. All the more so because, though I felt my esteem dwindling, I was as much a part of the mechanism of escapism from societal kinship as any other. Another person within the two rows, ceaselessly searching for something on our phones, or tablets. Wired in, to music or movies or some other strange form of story telling that contrives to expel our own oration. Silence. We sit in silence, with things in our hands, trying to project a personality by our apparel or else our apparent lack of care. Do not make eye contact. Do not sigh. Stifle your thoughts, your laughter, your breath.
The future looks bleak to me, the day the inanimate devices in our hands hold more concern of ours than the warm organism that lives to our left and right. What is their story? Why are they with us, on a journey that propels us both, underground, at such incredible speeds. For what reason do they sit so silently, and do they understand how morose the environment becomes when the one is just a one; a digit, rendered unthinking by their lack of true person-hood.
Put down the device in your hand, please, and claim back your real life.
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