What compels people to shun the world above ground, the sunlight, the weather, the outside? The unnatural lighting of the underground makes faces look sallow and haggard. Everybody’s eyes are just… dead. I began to think it would really be best for everyone if the city burned down once every 50 years, just so things could be started anew. Because the underground is undeniable proof that something is wrong, and wrong in a way that can never be fixed.
It’s like a magnet for insanity, as well. The jittery guy on the subway who everybody avoids because he’s nuzzling a grimy teddy bear and gets visibly spooked when approached – make no mistake, he was drawn here. The uncomfortable sheen of fluorescent lights, the raw and sudden clamor of disembarcation, and the sweet, lingering stench of beer vomit are familiar and comforting, companions in despair.

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