• A crowded street:
    The pitter-patter of well-worn shoes
    on the pock-marked pavement,
    with the odd collision of bodies
    followed by a hurried apology
    as a malignant musk of cigarette fumes
    swoops by in a breeze.
    So congested - almost suffocating
    as the bus doors close,
    standing shoulder-to-shoulder with silent strangers.
    An excess of heat produced by the tight proximity -
    yet the atmosphere is so cold and frigid.

    A crowded theatre:
    Bodies move in,
    bodies move out,
    anxious with places to be -
    eyes glued to wrists,
    fingers over keypads
    while scouring for suitable seats.
    Shuffling down rows
    with more hurried apologies - soon to be forgotten
    as backpacks unzip to reveal
    laptops and notebooks - the tools of the trade
    ready to begin.
    So many faces, so many names -
    fondly familiar yet perplexingly foreign.
    So many bodies gathered together as one big number,
    yet each alone is strangely so small -

    perhaps we're nothing at all.