I DON’T OFTEN travel by train. I did today, and this is what I saw and felt.
I looked down the carriage…
and all I saw —
faces.
Not faces facing faces,
but faces facing glass.
Heads bowed like worship,
but it’s not prayer.
Just… scrolling.
Endless.
Mindless.
Some smiling.
Some… blank.
Some looking like they just read
a message that broke them
a little.
And I thought —
these people,
they’re so close…
Yet so far.
What’s become of us?
We used to notice.
We used to nod.
We used to see.
Now?
We don’t even see
the next man
sitting
right
next
to us.
We miss the elderly,
gripping a stick like it’s the last branch
keeping them standing.
We don’t notice the woman,
heavy with child,
balancing life in her belly,
and a bag on her back.
We’ve got thoughts.
We’ve got speech.
We’ve got faces,
full of stories
waiting to be told —
but we look down.
Always down.
Why?
Why do we trade reality
for reels?
Why do we recognise
notifications
before we recognise
each other?
We say we’re connected —
but we’ve never been more alone.
So I ask:
Can’t we just look up?
Can’t we just talk?
Can’t we feel something real
before we forget
how?
Before we forget
that behind every screen
is a beating heart,
and maybe, just maybe —
that heart
needs to be seen.
