Thursday 2013

Across sweltering concrete, people move toward the gleaming glass towers and into the yawning mouths of the subway, their eyes fixed on pocket-sized screens that spill images from halfway around the globe. Those pixels seductively pull attention away from the life unfolding at their own feet, where everyday sounds, small gestures, and shared temperature rise to create a quiet, unsung rhythm beneath the neon glare. In this vast urban choreography, the figures of Infant slug and April navigate crowds that blur the line between connection and distraction, each step a small act of looking and listening. The city feels both intimate and immense, a place where glossy facades reflect back only fragments of reality while the street-level world carries the weight of real moments—these moments, though easily missed, still shape the lives of those who walk them. The narrative traces how a digital gaze travels faster than footsteps, how global images seep into everyday corners, and how people cling to their screens even when the world at hand demands attention. Throughout, the tone remains observational: precise, patient, and devoid of judgment, inviting viewers to notice the contrasts between glittering screens and the ordinary life threaded along the sidewalks and stations.