The Silence of the Commuters

I can, to a certain extent, identify with the lambs being corralled and pushed towards the gates of the slaughter house, after a terrific and traumatic journey in a cattle truck.

My fate may not meet quite the same lethal end. But it is repeated 5 days a week.
After being roughly offloaded from the commuter train and its bodily smells, stale air and rampant viruses, I am pushed over the rail bridge by the mass of the others and I myself push the ones before me. In a big collective rush towards productivity.

Or rather in a big collective rush towards potential productivity. Because unlike Flickr, Blipfoto is not yet stopped at the door of the "Company" by its firewall bouncers :)