By Saturn T and Violet T
A collective dance around ourselves, shadowed by a distorted, fleeting presence. I catch glimpses. The tapping of a foot against the concrete platform, eager for the train. This air, where the scent of lovingly cooked food wafts between us. A car honking. Their unknown celebration. People passing by, each with their own lives, their own families, unique, individual thoughts. He smiles. They paint. Laughter. Balloons. I wonder for only a moment before moving on. Vibrant colors. Hands. Shoes. The sun sets.
We are one people. This is our story.
Lights on.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you
Walt whitman