Here’s an exercise we just did in my news reporting class. Try and guess where I am. I’ll give you a hint: it’s within 10 minutes of the classroom I currently am sitting in.
Rushed conversation, soft tones of speech interjected with harsh spouts of angry business men late for work. Commuting delays and consequently, angry passengers, or customers. The escalators are full with two lanes going up and two lanes going down. The left is the slow lane, the right is full of heavy boots and joggers eager to reach the top before those to their left.
The greasy smell of McDonalds is interspersed with the fleshy smell of paper stacked in the yellow and blue containers situated around the place. Headphones play out music at a level irritating enough for other ears to hear what its owner is consuming.
Shoes scuff the tiles and tow the yellow line as they await the rush of wind and the sound of the next vehicle coming in to take them to a place they’d rather be. School kids shuffle around on a city excursion, elderly women wait for them to pass, to find a seat to sit on, preferably one without bubble tea cups and plastic waste surrounding its feet.
Uni students munch on Twisties and chew Extra like they’re in desperate need of a sugar rush but can’t get some action, despite their branded purses and fancy totes. Instead, people bury themselves in their iPhones and books, trying to escape the world around them, finding time to space out and be alone in a crowd of hundreds.