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.