Speed and the Metropolis
Wake up. The alarm goes off at the fixed time for weekdays to give you just enough time to get ready and have some caffeine and carbs to run through the door and face the morning rush hour.
The city welcomes you with a circuit crowded by all the other early birds leaving their nests with just a hint of light on their path to the L.
The sideways have become the tracks for automatized pedestrians that unconsciously ignore their city-mates as they walk with them on the right side of the so-called sidewalk, almost like in an alienated parade. In their rush, they don’t acknowledge the eyes that walk the opposite direction on their left side, although they coincide in space and time everyday.
Layers of speed define the city at this time. The quiet footsteps on the sidewalks contrast with the traffic jam. Cars run faster… louder by you, occupying almost more urban space than the buildings and the voids dedicated to the citizens. Just like arteries, the elevated train tracks turn loudly around the corners becoming the third speed pattern that wraps the high buildings.
Take a breath. A musician is playing a song at the platform. You are forced to freeze your race until your train comes. The city is composed of buildings and the voids those create, or maybe not. Those stay still like trees, yet the city is alive. From the elevated perspective and your forced stop you can feel the metropolitan speed around you. Then, not just the cars, the trains, the pedestrians move; the buildings seem to do it too. It is a frenetic feeling.
Sara Cabal González