03-Exercises from TSK: Riding the Subway

The Giant Body Exercise: step 3 Riding the Subway

Riding the subway, the giant body comes to mind. As soon as it does, I realize all these people are in the giant body with myself as we are being carried away through deep space. 

In the next wagon, through the glass doors, a young man with a target drawn on his backpack is helping an elderly man to seat himself. A worried blonde girl is standing, putting on pale grey and pink mittens. Her backpack is patched grey and pink too, she wears a grey coat and boots. 

A Sikh in a purple turban steps in. Seated in a corner a youngster in a striped black woolen hat is reading a hardcover book. Someone is sleeping next to an empty seat. The handsome man next to me seems to be immersed in his thoughts. 

In the other wagon, someone with glasses and a red wollen cap is staring blankly while the young man with a target on his backback is texting though there is no Wi-Fi on this line as I realize scribbling this down on a tiny notebook.

On my way back from the dentist, the giant body welcomes me back into the subway. This time, I take only mental notes of the people traveling in the same space-time capsule as I: a black woman all dressed in black except for a tweed cap and burgundy pants with earplugs on, probably listening to music on her phone but who knows?

 A disheveled dude in jogging pants rushes in with a soda can in his hand, sits down and gulps it. A cute Chinese toddler in pink and purple snowsuit and boots is sitting on her mother's lap. A sturdy unrelated Asian man is standing, his neck covered in a checkered  black and white scarf. He's wearing shoes whitened by the calcium used to melt the snow. 

A dark-skinned student carrying a woolen strapped bag is absorbed in a tattered French copy of Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer. The back woman in jeans next to greyed hair man hunching on his seat has her face all contracted  by fatigue as well as the other black woman sitting across the aisle.

At some point, I glance for a fraction of a second at a woman in a beige coat and red glasses looking at me and I realize I'm looking at my reflection in the glass doors of the train, holding on to a  metal bar to keep my balance as the train is accelerating. I'm the scintillating dot taking in the whole picture of the giant body made up of all the human bodies riding the Montreal metro at this node of the space and time continuum.

 A young woman sporting a Peruvian cap with woolen plaits and turquoise jeans stands at the side of an elegant middle-aged woman with copper hair wearing an anorak with a fur bordered hood herself standing next to a young woman carring two heavy black cotton shopping bags claiming "Épicerie Santé" [ healthy grocery]. 

As I walk down the corridor to switch to another line, the marching people I run into seem to be rushing into the giant body. In the next train, a South-American woman in a deep purple coat with fake purple fur bordered hood has the stern face of a quichua Indian. A beautiful young woman dressed in a navy coat and jeans is standing in the middle of the wagon,  her navy backpack on the floor between her feet. She's holding a grey shoe bag and a zipped lunch box in a blackwatch material. A dude carrying a hockey stick and a huge sports bag is stepping out as I overhear: 

—See you tomoroow.

—Indeed.

Later, as I get off the bus to walk home, I notice a police car with two policemen with beards. They look like terrorists. There is a stillness in the air. It's not even cold and the snow has melted from the sidewalks. People are preparing dinner for the giant body, a television screen is blaring on a second floor, the kitchens are flooded with lights. There are still a few Christmas lights. A woman is carrying grocery bags from her car to the door of her house. I walk into the giant body of the falling night up to my home smelling of steamed vegetables and I hug my companion who has been travelling in the giant body with me since time immemorials.