I Never Understood

An Excerpt from something I am writing – in answer perhaps to Byron.

I never understood why the subway trains had large plexiglass windows. It’s not like anyone could see anything but darkness out there. There was barely a foot of space on either side of the tunnel. Surely, the windows were an aesthetic addition, but why? Did the windows afford some sort of imaginary mental comfort? Did people feel safer thinking that they could potentially jump out in case of an emergency? Clearly that was not it. Not only would the windows not open outward, but there was also the danger of electrocution via the third rail only a few feet below. I saw passengers looking out into the darkness all the time, as if there lay before them a beautiful countryside with tall cypress trees and sweet smelling flowers. Was the frightening aspect of being closed in having to look inwards, towards each other for lack of a “better view”? At least with the windows, there was a legitimate excuse to look away and avoid each other; even if looking away yielded the contents of a dark tunnel with unending wires and blasted walls. I tried to look out into the darkness as intensely as some of my fellow passengers. Whatever comfort they found beyond the tunnel wall was not to be had by myself, so I looked down towards the floor to avoid any type of confrontation.