only when the silence 
of solitude bites into our skin
like a snake, poisoning the depths
of our mind,

would we truly understand 
the mundanity of everyday pandemonium before the pandemic. 
that we trudged through without batting an eyelid. blank 
gazes littering train stations, 
heads bent necks bent shoulders
hunched, silence in the swelling crowds.

but the unstirring sense of shallow
unity
the feeling of a human unknown, breathing beside you
with stories he'd never tell and stories you'd never hear --

tiny disruption to the silence by a toddler shrieking in happiness.

another day at work
outside
out of your door
out of the walls you never lived in
(or simply existed for 8 hours a day).

and only when the door slams, 
do you realise

the mundanity of slogging 
through the 8am crowd to 
____ Terminal is more than just a routine. it's another way to show
we coexist, and we coexist in a
technologically-barred familiarity 
that has turned so strange to us.