Waiting at an nearly silent station, thoughts run through my head of a discussion earlier on in the pub, just 24 feet above from where I am now. It is about the lived space where the individual perception through the interaction with others determines the public realm. What makes a city alive such that it makes you want to live in it?
I am seated on a concrete bench. It is cold. But lamps integrated in the bench give a comfortable warmth when you sit on them. The lights in the benches on the opposite side of the tracks light the rough walls and backlight the woman waiting. She only realizes now, when she sees the tram passing that she has been waiting in the wrong place. The tram stops 90 feet further up. She misses the tram. I look at her understandingly as I see my tram arrive.