Breaking Down in the City

Everything seems on the precipice of collapsing in our capital city.

Two separate stories show how close we are to this collapse. While going to work over the week I was confronted by an unusual sight. It was quite early in the morning and in the new day sun a lady sat down on one of the main thorough fares of the city. She was dressed in typical business attire and was likely on her way to work. Instead she was sitting by the road, with her head in her hands as an apparent stranger attempted to comfort her. An ambulance arrived as I passed to tend to the woman.

The second story has a similar tone. This was related to me by a friend many months ago. While on a bus, my friend saw a man, again apparently heading to work have a similar breakdown. The man was hysterically crying as he sat alone on the bus. This must have been very awkward in such a public place for both the man and the other passengers on the bus.

The identification of 'awkwardness' as the main overriding pattern in these stories may seem callous. But that is the nature of our city and our society. The city is apparently created to make our lives easier. Perhaps this is a fallacy and the convenience of the city is really just a contrived method of allowing us to survive just enough. Going to work and engaging in numbing monotony is somewhat alleviated by how easily the city facilitates these patterns. Public transport allows us to turn our brains off and ignore our natural instinct to rebel against a grey existence.

These people that broke down in the city under this strain and they will certainly not be the last to do so.

-The English Student

City Conspiracy

In my spare moments in the city I have found myself becoming a bit of an amateur detective.

Two separate people have drawn my attention. Throughout the masses of the capital city, the bustle of every day life and the fast pace of the metropolis two people are recurring characters in my daily routine. The first is a somewhat elderly woman. My curiosity about her was aroused when I saw her trendy runners that were completely at odds with the rest of her austere clothes. She wears a dark coat and trousers and is invariably at my bus stop at 20:54, every day. I actually stumbled into her in a café at about 20:00 earlier in the week and subtly observed her from the other side of the room. An elderly man that she knew by name visited her and gave her newspapers, to which she said "I don't rely on anybody".

The second person I have seen less frequently. He is fairly heavy set and wears a dark jacket and jeans. His untamed hair and somewhat vacant stare draws the eye. He gets on my bus at various times in the evening and sits on the top floor of the bus in the second row from the front. One stop before his, he bows his head forward in a crouch while sitting and all of a sudden springs upright and marches straight off the bus. If I had to guess his mantra, it would be "I don't perceive anybody".

What has made me to make these bizarre observations? Am I simply deranged? Do I get some kind of sick pleasure from observing people? I would naturally be inclined to defend myself on these fronts and in any case I feel that there is something more systemic going on. The Panopticon society that we live in truly has begun to infect us all. We're Baudelaire's detective, as we walk the city streets not making any personal connection with people and thus, inventing one.

We observe all and are observed by all.

-The English Student