Rush Hour

All colours, hairs, skins and clothes 

Suits, dresses, jeans, loafers, heels, shirts, t-shirts and skirts

All ages, silver-haired, headscarves, afros, bald, ponytails, buns, buzz cuts, bangs and top-knots

Sunglasses, vision-enhancing glasses, beards, clean-shaven, stubbles and bum fuzz

Rotund and slim, fat and built, short and big 

Vibrant and youthful faces and worn in wrinkled faces

The directionless and purposefull, the lost and the driven

The nearly dead and the very much living 

The beautiful and the ugly

The gorgeous and the hideous 

The champions and the defeated 

The rich, the aspirational poor and the beats 

Those who read newspapers, Man Booker Prize-winners, Sylvia Plath and Keats

Those listening to the Beatles on earphones, those glued to their phones and those who stare into emptiness

Some people watch, others stare and most look away

Intimacy in the closeness, packed like sardines, averting eye contact 

Listening in on foreign tongues trying to guess what such expressions mean

Hushed voices, quite whispering and drunken bellowing 

The diversity is overwhelmingly rich and fanciful, I’m living in the middle of the world

I journey on public transport and feel like I’ve seen the world in people’s eyes and in their faces, millions of stories and years of experience bursting out waiting to be heard

Give me your lives and let me listen 


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