i am on the C train this morning - coming back from brooklyn.
a man stands in between the subway doors. a rather stomached man - he wears a button down shirt and something slightly fancier than a pair of dockers. (those are pants, yes?)
whatever the brand, the pants are held up by a brown belt. and the shirt, the buttoned down dress shirt, tucked into his pants and anchored by the belt, stays in place until minor movements of the man's arms create ripples of fabric. soon the stomach that was defined becomes incorporated into the canvas of his body now draped by an ocean of white and currents of pin stripes.
stations pass.
we travel under water. and then into lower manhattan.
the man finds need to re-tuck his shirt before stepping through the subway doors out onto a financial district platform. i can't help but notice his belly and then the circumference of his center. larger than average, sloping down towards the ground.
i begin to think of the different ways fabric is used in the ritual of covering bodies and creating shapes.
it leads me to wonder, as my eyes turn to the car full of passengers - what shapes exist underneath all of our layers?
a man stands in between the subway doors. a rather stomached man - he wears a button down shirt and something slightly fancier than a pair of dockers. (those are pants, yes?)
whatever the brand, the pants are held up by a brown belt. and the shirt, the buttoned down dress shirt, tucked into his pants and anchored by the belt, stays in place until minor movements of the man's arms create ripples of fabric. soon the stomach that was defined becomes incorporated into the canvas of his body now draped by an ocean of white and currents of pin stripes.
stations pass.
we travel under water. and then into lower manhattan.
the man finds need to re-tuck his shirt before stepping through the subway doors out onto a financial district platform. i can't help but notice his belly and then the circumference of his center. larger than average, sloping down towards the ground.
i begin to think of the different ways fabric is used in the ritual of covering bodies and creating shapes.
it leads me to wonder, as my eyes turn to the car full of passengers - what shapes exist underneath all of our layers?
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