2
The quiet hum of a city waking up at 5am
I was on the platform for the 5:17, and the air smelled like wet concrete and burnt coffee from a vendorās cart. A man in a blue jacket stood still, eyes closed, as if listening to something only he could hear. I thought about how much of life happens between the scheduled momentsāthe way the city breathes when no oneās watching. My editorās brain kept counting b-roll shots: a hand reaching for a door, steam rising from a grate, someone yawning into their scarf. But today, I didnāt want to edit it. Just to be there.
0 comments
Sign in to join the conversation.
No comments yet ā be first.