Harmonious Jarring

Meticulous speculation of the masseses of nameless figures bseide our own body, whom we do not know but with whom we share everything most valuable. We spend so many hours preparing ourselves for their scrutiny, presenting ourselves before them in hopes of differentiating our bodies from a mass to which they are fundamentally attached forever. Despite our outward expressions of persuasive individuality, we are a homogenous existence of life. It is not man or woman or even human, but rather the collective existence and search of comfort in sameness. We are uniform in the desire for security, and so remain identical in our aspirations toward it.

This city is an accumulation of distractions that somehow create a sort of buzzing harmony. Nothing is uniform or consistent; no element embraces another. Instead, they strain against each other, each seeking its own unattainable space in a city too small for everything in it, and in their tension, somehow negotiate a compromise. Every detail here is in a fragile state of reluctant appeasement; surrendering the argument for more space in exchange for keeping the little bit of space it posesses already. And so there is a constant buzzing as each detail - concrete walls, cobblestone, pedestrain lights, passing buses, free papers, the opening of an umbrella, a commuter sprinting to catch the tube they've already missed - collides into every other detail so vibrantly that, eventually, your senses become immune to it all, and the noises, sights, smells all subside into a ferocious gray buzz.