Routine

Fresh, lovely morning in a city that is never quiet. The workers silently marching down the streets, going in all directions. They are like in automatic pilot, moving thoughtless towards the place they must be. I feel that I'm turning into one of them but I refuse to become a robot so I continuing fighting against the daily routine. A routine that eventually would change me into a emotionless creature.

I am having crazy thoughts and there is no one to persuede me to think otherwise, I'm so lonely in a enormous city that looks down on me, graceless unworthy and tiny stain on the paivement. Am I overreacting?  Perhaps but even a crazy person bases his/her insanity in a small fact.

I took a picture of a lady in the tram, she had some crazy burned hair and she looked so disturbed. I felt sorry for her but my morbid mind pushed me to take this picture. I sincerely hope, she finds help, I'm sure being elderly is not easy.

Report of the week:

Negative stuff: Still no one sits next to me in the train, still no friends made.

Positive: I saw beautiful buildings & clothes, and some swedish boys(and a girl) drinking champagne at the station, they were super perfect(no so much in the face though) I would have loved to take pictures of them because they wearing the Swedish flag as a cape.