There is a light mist adorning Sydney's skyline this morning. It softens the harsh outslines of the tall buildings in the Central Business District with a blue-grey wash that makes the cityscape appear like a painted backdrop.
At Town Hall station, the train lumbered out of the tunnel like some behemoth from pre-history. A now before now.
Crossing the bridge, the harbour was alive with ferrys and sailboats, shrunk by the distnce into a plethora of aquatics insects. Sun shines throught he lattice work of the superstructure, imprinting the tarmac and cars with an intricate teselation of light and shadow.
The smell of people lingers in the cariage: stale musk, sweet perfume, acrid body odour.
The doors open and I am surrounded by the throng, racing for the stairs, to be the first to their office, their desk, their alloted tasks.
I smile and take my time.
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