Photo by Dan Roize
London underground. 8.33 am. I look around. So many intense faces. What are they carrying, what's their story, what are they dealing with? I wonder.
Man holds on to his man bag. He Looks worried. Something seems to be troubling him deeply. Is it the people around him, is it something going on at home?
Woman in a blue dress does her makeup. Staring intensely into her little mirror, making sure all the little spots and imperfections are covered up. She is efficient and organised.
So many tired eyes, so many tortured eyes. Why is their lives so hard?
Family arrives with cute little girl. People look and smile, but quickly look away again. The child brings a lightness back in but no one wants to look too long in case someone thinks they are a freak. Her eyes are innocent, the light hasn't gone out of them yet. What is a sweet thing like this doing in such a serious and somber environment such as the morning London rush hour?
A moth appears, darting around, crashing into the lights. Finally I spot a smile or two as people momentarily forget the dread of another day at work and instead focus on this foolish creature.
A woman holds onto the yellow poll, feeling some comfort in it's stability as the train rocks her from side to side
You get the feeling no one is looking forward to their day ahead.