There is something inherently comforting about observing movement.
A little bit of knowing that you are alive. –
The movement of the conveyor belt
The staff as they prepare the food
The steam as it rises off your cup.
The movement of sound in your ears as music transports you to a psychologically different place.
In the density of the urban jungle,
I suppose this -a sushi belt- is my substitute stream.
The world moves on, even if we don’t understand
or feel our place in it.
22 Feb 2017; 4.30pm. penned
Ruminations during lunch.
Sushi conveyor belts are oddly comforting.