I sit down next to a woman who is taking up a full seat, and then some. I fold myself up as best I can, but I feel her hair against me and I squirm away. She glances at me peripherally, she’s probably thinking “I’m not even touching her”. I transfer trains and sit next to a woman who squirms away from me. I think to myself, “I’m not even touching you”.
She was already furiously swiping her metro card as I made my way down the stairs. I pull out my wallet and walk up to the turnstile. “Watch this”, I think to myself as I swipe with confidence. “Please swipe again”, says the turnstile.
szilmolnar: when the writer can’t write
Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes.Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself.The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.
The man covered his mouth while he coughed, after which he instinctively placed it right back on the pole. I stared at him. It’s easy to remember to do the right thing when you’re on the outside.
Mr. Freedom (1969), dir. William Klein
Ladies and gentleman,can I have your attention, please…?