Traffic

Sitting on a bridge, looking down amongst the steady flow of cars beneath my feet I am reminded of a river. It’s interesting to consider that every piece of steel is hurling onward to a specific destination charged with desire and emotion. Behind the nondescript shell is a human, a family with needs, hopes, and independent thought. Though as they toil in the midst of cars they seem more like zombies methodically switching lanes, speeding up, and slowing down in an endless rhythm. Which causes me to wonder, is this river of steel more akin to a machine, or the flow of an organic creek? Where does one’s humanity lie when confronted with mechanical obscurity?