As I walk through New York’s Grand Central Station I see masses of zombie-like beings scurrying to catch trains to where-ever it is they came from.
These people seem to be void of human emotions.
Perhaps this is a reflection of their mundane lives.
The daily grind of a 9 to 5 job, and a steady but sure march to the grave.
I’m not really sure, nor do I care.
I see them mostly as zombies.
Bodies without souls.
Slaves to their masters.
My interpretation of Rush Hour