mazeways

the cars of the red line train are illuminated by dim, fluorescent lighting and shake in the darkness of the subway tunnels. the carpet on the seats is worn so thin in some places that you can see the metal base underneath.

downtown crossing station is filled with pooling cool air from the world above. the black and green vinyl walkway of the concourse is framed by white tile walls, smooth steel pillars, and lights, pipes, and conduits overhead. stepping up to downtown crossing itself, the brickwork roads of summer, winter, and washington streets intersect beneath twelve story buildings with intricate stone facades.

you are headed to a place you know in chinatown, passing by bike couriers and carts selling hot dogs. tall, angular buildings, spotlights, banners, and marquees cut against the rich, deep twilight sky above. lights shine and flash and an orchestra of car horns permeates the cool, evening air.

you are in one of Boston's several beating hearts. you can feel it in the brick walkway moving beneath your feet. you can hear it in the winds and the muffled voices of pedestrians in the intersection. it sings in the hissing whisper and idle churning of the silver line's engine.

the breeze is calm, the lights glowing and piercing, the smells inviting, and you are a part of it.

you are pure, pure, pure.

enter the place you know

{ quit mazeway }