Resilience

See this man, as he gazes out the window at rapidly passing scenery. The way his short blonde hair falls over dark blue eyes . He is one face of many on the train, but he is the one we will observe.
He is listening to music on his MP4 player, and tapping his fingers to the beat.

Lets hear what he hears...

“Well I think it's fine, building jumbo planes.
Or taking a ride on a cosmic train.
Switch on summer from a slot machine.
Yes, get what you want to if you want, 'cause you can get anything.”

Lets see what he sees...

The brick walls of buildings speed past, with the occasional blurred bit of greenery. The train stops as it reaches a station, and his attention is grasped by an old man sitting on the platform, his tanned, weather beaten face etched with an expression of sadness. His clothes are tattered, and he clutches his frayed and billowing jacket around him in a desperate attempt to ward off the winter chill.

The song changes...

“It doesn't matter to me
It doesn't matter to me
I'll sit home and watch you all on my colour TV”

The train roars on, the sound of its passing drowned out by the music. Into a tunnel now, lit by fluorescent lights. The walls are covered in graffiti, hastily scribbled tags that seem to blend into one another with the speed. The train slows at it rounds a bend, and his eyes widen as a huge artwork is revealed, the other more mundane graffiti leaving a reverent space around it.
Beautifully painted vines, covered with leaves and blood red flowers, seem to grow out of the wall itself. The word “Resilience”, entwined by the vines and painted in black and gold copperplate writing, glimmers in the dim lighting of the tunnel. He frantically pulls a camera from his bag, but it is too late. It's gone.
He slumps back and sighs, replacing the camera, as the train emerges into the bright light of day.

The song changes...

“Perfect by nature, icons of self indulgence,
just what we all need
more lies about the world.”

A billboard comes into view, a pouting female model advertising a product, saying,
“Life just gets better and better.”
Scrawled across her face in spray paint, are the words: “Sincere lie.”

And now the train stops again. He glances up at the sign on the station, and stands, taking his bag.
The doors open with a hiss, and he steps out into the open air.