I work in a city. I work 9 to 5 Monday to Friday. I walk to the train station and I catch a train to the city and then I join the countless others in the march. The eyes down, grey and black clad march of the clones that filters us past the homeless, the young and the travellers and into our multi story concrete and glass cells.
I jam my earphones into my ears and try desperately to listen to my audiobook or my music as the sounds of busses, construction and beaurocracy impose on me.
I close off my senses as I am assaulted by perfumes and body odours. My space is invaded as we cram tightly into the carriage or as we march the streets and make unwelcome accidental contact in a desperate bid to hasten to our destination.
There's women in high fashion. I feel poorly dressed, overweight, undergroomed and overwhelmed.
Here I am one of many, feeble in my non conformity. Ugly, afraid and shallow.
I loathe what this city does to me. I loathe the mirror it holds to me.
Just 3 more days.
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