I ride the light rail often enough to see the same ol' folk getting on and off at their respective destinations. The same faces continually reappear like the lingering image of a reoccurring dream always showing up when least expected but always in the same place as before, during sleep or in this case the RTD's D line light rail. The man below, apparently attempting to find a few of the missing Zs from his previous nights sleep, caught my attention. Undisturbed as he was I couldn't help but notice how his reflection was caught in the reflection of the window next to him trapping his very self in the window as well as captured as a photo in my camera.
Other people on the light rail also come to mind. Every Friday as I board the 10:30AM north bound train I notice another man refusing help from others as he attempts to conquer the two flights of stairs leaving the Littleton Downtown station laiden with an oxygen tank and full backpack both set on wheels to assist with obvious poor condition. Lift oxygen two steps, lift backpack two steps, grasp rail, step up once, twice, again.
Leaving class at 2pm on the south bound light rail I notice similar events and not so similar ones as well. The old lady bound from head to toe in winter clothing carrying an extra jacket under her arm and grasping a small child's hand while quietly staring off the passing cars of the freeway not to far away. The black man rapping aloud to himself but loud enough for everyone to hear him as he paces back and forth from one end of the platform to the other. The homeless man passing out the latest issue of "The Voice", a Denver weekly publication dedicated to helping house, feed and employ the homeless.
A man smoking.
A girl laughing.
A mother scolding.
A student learning.
Everyday I see people living life differently than the life that I have chosen for myself and everyday I wonder what it would be like if I made or had to make a change. Would I be the man smoking? Would I be marching down and back on the platform to the cadence of my own rhymes? Perhaps explaining to a small child why the gum on the ground is not for eating or trying to decipher what my teacher was so amped about in my last organic chemistry class?
Either way it seems to me that at the end of a long day of working, learning, taking photos, running and sleeping that I am comfortable for now taking the road of the old man and the stairs. Tasking myself with the same trivial obstacles week after week but, always taking life one step at a time.