One night in the last car of the 1 train a man slept on the seats right next to his cart. The cart was one of those densly packed life bubbles, filled with everything this man possessed perhaps? The owner of the cart was probably dreaming of pushing this cart somewhere, or maybe something completely unpredictable. He was in a private, very real, present, actual life bubble...
A day later, on the same train, in a different car, squeezed between other commuters was another man. His thin file pressed between his legs, he was poking around the screen of a brightly lit pocketPC. It was quite obvious that the software was more in control of him than he was in control of the software. He also was in a bubble, yet is was a very different one, a more scripted, scentless, tasteless, private bubble... He was in a completely different place.
And now they are both on the same page. Or wait. the man with the cart did not make it into the picture...
i love the "home"