48 hours crosspost

travel.
moving from one place to another, watching endless tableaux swish by in a soundless blur, rendered mute and awed by the bustle that is other people.
in my daily commute, I pass through 4 cities/corporations/whatever, countless neighbourhoods (including my old one), over one river, past four car dealerships, the second largest mall in Canada, by two Telus buildings (separated by four stations), a train depot, and a toilet paper factory.
For what felt like an eternity, I couldn't handle the ride. To simply step through and over, like a pair of 20,000 league boots, making little if any impressions as I stood still and tried not to let the heartbreak show. Eventually, I would suit up like a deep-sea diver: headphones on, something english with guitars going loudly, eyes and mind buried deep in a graphic novel, I simply ignored the world. I still do, when I'm nervous about something. (witness Owen and Paige yesterday, standing behind me at Broadway Station, Owen miming pinching my posterior, while I listen to Thom Yorke wailing about chickens in his head and yuppies networking, and ponder what the interviewer's going to ask me, not noticing that they're there until Paige giggles loudly enough during a lull for me to turn around.)

but I digress. it's travel that does me in; looking down on people and the world they inhabit as you go right by, bouncing like a straight line off a circle (go tangents!), ignorant of their stories and experiences and laughter and sadness; to know that every person you go by has a story that you're missing, a talent that you'll never see, a recipe you'll never taste, a joy you'll never share.

it makes me feel tiny.