It was impossible to tell if the building was stained
Or if they window was filthy.
Then the wheels moved clockwise...
Into a tunnel,
I sort to find bricks in blackness
But got distracted by my own reflection.
Maybe that is how
Buildings made of one-way-glass
Conceal their contents.
But he saw none of that.
Sitting in the window seat,
Reality constructed itself beside him
Whilst he read the paper.