Monday morning establishes itself with frightening determination. The sun is fighting a brave but fruitless battle against a persistent blanket of fog, smothering the city like pink candy floss. Cars wake from their sleep and start clogging up streets. Waste bins are waiting to be emptied. The cash machine makes a short, rattling noise, while the fountain in the square remains silent. A bus howls past my open window and the fog turns from pink to grey, as the sun finally surrenders.
I meander down the road, passing an elderly lady walking her dog. Both don't look too happy. The city is still half asleep, but more awake than I am. I get into my car and join the many, lonely commuters in the daily race to their workplace. I snuggle up in my tiny bubble made of steel, plastic and glass. One person per car. Too many cars per planet. Shit streams from the radio. Rihanna's music is heinous and always will be.
Streets are wet and traffic presents itself in a muted colour palette. Taillights glare in angry reds, breaking up monotony, while lorries huff and puff uphill. No doubt they are laden to the brim with essential goods for the gentle consumer. Cherries from Chile. Garlic from China. Apples from South Africa. Potatoes from Egypt. Welcome to a globalised world! I wonder if what they get from us in return adds up in the end ...
No comments:
Post a Comment