"Everyone, it seemed to him, lived their lives out of little boxes, opening different ones for different occasions. Nobody ever gave their whole self away......Most people you met in the course of your life, you never even learned their names . Everybody was boxed off from everybody else.It was called society."
D.I. John Rebus in "The Hanging Garden" by Ian Rankin
London underground, labyrinthine tunnels under a city that doesn't stop, always on the move, no hesitation, destination to reach, somewhere to be. We move between commuters on their way home from offices, on the way to the pub for the one before home. People bang against our shoulder going on the opposite direction, we move out of the way of other people, they move out of our way with furtive looks, no smiles, no communication, muted "thanks" and "sorry" thrown just behind them as they pass. The noise is all around us, fragments of conversations between friends.
We stop and cautiously stand just by the yellow line on the platform, reminding ourselves to MIND the GAP, is it the gap in the platform or are they advising us to maintain the gap between ourselves and the rest of the people around us?.
We feel the air pressure changing around us before we can hear or see the train approaching trough the dark tunnel, people move forward, closer now, not wanting to miss the tube, adamant to get in the train; the doors open and we stand on the side to let people leave the platform, and then we are carried inside the carriage, all seats taken, people pushing the others in front to be able to get in, we grab the first pole and stand.
The carriage is full, those standing are so close to each other that they can hear each others breathing, but we notice there isn't any eye contact, everyone is looking the other way, at their shoes, there is a young guy next to us with his earphones glued to his ears, we can hear the beat of the music he is listening to, behind us is a woman, we can feel her handbag poking in our back. Some tourist are in front of us trying to look at a map of the tube while holding the bar overhead.
The train is noisy, the movement wild, we are all sharing an enclose space, surrounded by people and all alone at the same time, everyone in his or hers little world, everyone in a box.
The girl is sitting a few meters from us, she is reading a book and trying to balance her large hand bag in her lap so she doesn't disturbed the old man siting next to her. Legs together, elbows close to her body, trying to fit in the small space allowed to her in her sit, avoiding physical contact. She seems to notice our scrutiny and lift her eyes of the book, for a second our eyes meet, I try to smile but she has move his look back to the book so quickly that we wonder if we imagine her looking up.
The intercom announces the next stop, people start moving, folding newspapers, putting books in the handbags and work cases. People stand and start making their way to the doors with an "excuse me" in front of them. No smiles. Politeness without feeling, like a pretty lamp without a bulb, same
on or off, no change, no light, but pretty though.
The girl gets up and move towards the door just when the train is stopping, the brake sends her tumbling backwards and she steps on the old man's foot. She mumbles a "sorry" and we can she how she goes red, embarrassed. She leaves the train, pushed from behind by the people wanting out of the sardines tin,she stumbles on the platform and with a quick look up she start walking along the platform towards the exit. We follow her trough the different tunnels, escalators and long corridors towards the exit . People is rushing all around us, like Alice's white rabbit, late home, late to catch the next train or just simply rushing to leave behind everything else, to get to our box and close the lid, to get to our own little world, where the windows are covered by books, or earphones, magazine, our shoes.
The girl leaves the underground and we come out with her into a typical October evening in London, cold and wet. The roads are shinning like broken glass, wet and slick with rain recently fallen. We feel the cold wind biting our faces and we can feel our skin going a bit numb, the girl must feel the same as we do; She gathers her coat closer to her body, and tightens the scarf around her neck, and adjusting her bag in her shoulder she start walking purposely to her left. We still follow. The streets are busy with cars, people, tourists lost and looking for Oxford Street perhaps, people standing outside pubs having a cigarette, while holding a pint of beer in a plastic glass in one hand, while trying to keep warm by moving the weight of their body from one foot to another.
The girl seems not to notice them, the cars, or even the slight rain that have started to fall, she walks with her arms crossed over her wist to keep the coat as close as possible to her body, and keep the warm inside. She looks at the floor just seeing her shoes going one in front of the other, looking up for just an instant to make sure that no one is walking into her space. Her few strands of hair loose from her hat captivity are giving form to the light, cold wind, that we can feel but we can't see.
All of the sudden she stops in front of a restaurant window, the light coming from inside illuminates her face and we can see her eyes becoming a bit wider and her mouth forms a tiny "o" with full and cold white lips. We look at what she is looking, we see what she sees; The restaurant is not very busy, a few couples, some people sitting at the bar, perhaps waiting for someone to meet them or too embarrassed to sit by themselves in a table. Once again we notice there is conversation on the tables, but looks, smiles, words, don't go further than the table where they are shared, boxes within box. Our girl is looking to a table close to the restaurants window, we can see the waiter approaching the table, and all occupants turn to look at him with menus in hand, the three girls and the young man are smiling and chatting to each other, while pointing at things in the menu. The young man says something and all of them laugh, even the waiter smiles, while looking at the window which we are using to look into the big box full of smaller boxes. Our girl turns abruptly and start walking faster than before, not noticing the looks of passerby as she collides with them without stopping once to say the expected apology. We follow her trough roads, crossing at traffic lights, turning left and right, up busy roads, down smaller quieter roads while the night takes a tighter hold and evening becomes strangle.
The girl stooped in front of a block of flats in a semi dark road, and search in her bag for her keys, we go with her up a flight of stairs and watch while she unlocks the to locks of the door marked with an A, the door is pale brown, like cardboard. She goes in and we found ourselves on her living room, the only light a lamp in a corner over an small table, in the semi dark we can see the silhouette of a sofa and an armchair, the curtains are open and the faint light of the street lamp peeps in. Her cat jumps from the window sill and approach hers, she lets her bag fall to the floor and gathers the cat to her chest, she kisses its head and slowly walks to the window, she stands there and looks out. A silent, lonely tears falls from her eye and slowly slides down her cheek, the cat playfully paws at it, it almost looks like he is caressing her, she looks at the cat and smiles.
"Maybe tomorrow, eh Paws?"- she murmurs while putting the cat on the floor. Straightening up, she hugs herself -"Maybe tomorrow Marcia will invite me out with the rest of the girls, and maybe tomorrow Paul will look at me and smile".
She slowly closes the curtain, leaving the world out, closing the lid, her own little box.
We leave, we walk back, we are back in front of the restaurant, back in the tube, the girl look up from her book and we smile at her, she smile at us, while the train run its mad race trough the tunnel.
Perhaps tomorrow we can open our box, we can open our world and let the light come in, let other people come into our box, a smile, a look, a word.........
