The Hum Beneath the Skin
The air in the tunnels always tastes of ozone and old, damp pennies. It is a metallic grit that settles on the back of the tongue, a reminder of friction and steel grinding against steel. I remember the feeling of standing on a platform, the vibration traveling up through the soles of my shoes, humming into my shins until my very bones felt like they were shivering in sympathy with the departing train. It is a strange, hollow solitude, being surrounded by the ghost-heat of a thousand bodies that have already moved on, leaving behind only the scent of rubber and stale, recycled breath. We are always in transit, aren’t we? Always caught between the push of where we were and the pull of where we are going, our bodies bracing against the invisible currents of the crowd. Does the stillness ever truly settle into our marrow, or are we just waiting for the next rumble to shake us loose again?
Stephen Chu has captured this exact weight of transition in his image titled Ebb and Flow. It reminds me that even in the rush, there is a quiet space waiting for us to inhabit it. Can you feel the silence that follows the noise?
