The diminutive brown birds chirping in their native island dialect.
Nervous laughter and knowing eyes populate the subway cars.
Everyone’s suspect. No one’s a suspect in the concrete jungle.
On certain days, the commute seems to last minutes, and on others, hours.
The morning commute can bring out the best and worst in a person in this overcrowded city.
Up above the subway are power brokers bustling about in their condos.
How different, if at all, is the evening commute from the morning commute?
Are people less agitated faced with roommates, spouses, and what to cook for dinner?
Thoughts of overzealous co-workers, managers, and professors fill the minds of hundreds of commuters sitting or holding onto the poles in the subway cars.
The morning commute is a symphony of languages, cries, and sights.
The morning commute is yet another opportunity to decide whether to continue onto school or work, or make a u-turn back home.