a sea of anonymity. faces swirling amidst the turbulence. rushing past are blurs of concrete, glass, and all we amass.

the bus shudders again, glass rattles, brakes squeal, people jar. a scattering of disgruntled, poorly suppressed groans.

____________

I took this earlier on the bus ride to work, then played it up in Photoshop. Wrote the blurb to accompany it. In case you think I'm sadistic and severed the Suit's head, I didn't. Something weird in the natural light/motion blurring made his head disappear. I dig it. I'm taking it as a sign: The corporates have no soul. I was thinking yesterday, "I'm gonna quit my job. I wonder when my RRSP loan finishes, and then I can cash it out, quit, and focus on writing for the next six months..." And today, what should arrive but a statement that seems to indicate feb. 16th as the last payment. I still need to call and confirm, but how cool is this? The gods approve. Fuck the man, I'm quitting in about three weeks. Gee. I'll be not working until September. Get a job when the kiddies return to school, if writing's not panning out. I'm putting my chips on the table, Sam.