jlavephoto
Morning Commute
"In the before-times, before the plague, before everyone just stopped going, our histories tell of a ritual called the morning commute. When thousands of people in thousands of cars would glide into that vast downtown island, towering and gleaming above the surface of the earth like some desert mirage. But it was very real. It was where we spent the very real hours of our very real lives. Where we shat and ate and occasionally died. Clockwork, every day, rain or shine, we shuttled in and out like ants to a hill, our will wrought by working as parts to a whole. And somehow, someway, though this nebulous whole left all in want of more, we were rewarded: change for a life tendered and the chance to do it over again tomorrow."
Morning Commute
"In the before-times, before the plague, before everyone just stopped going, our histories tell of a ritual called the morning commute. When thousands of people in thousands of cars would glide into that vast downtown island, towering and gleaming above the surface of the earth like some desert mirage. But it was very real. It was where we spent the very real hours of our very real lives. Where we shat and ate and occasionally died. Clockwork, every day, rain or shine, we shuttled in and out like ants to a hill, our will wrought by working as parts to a whole. And somehow, someway, though this nebulous whole left all in want of more, we were rewarded: change for a life tendered and the chance to do it over again tomorrow."