Underground

A sharp rush of air, as the subway muscles it's way through the dense air under London. Semi circular tunnels, bearing the grimy memories of thousands of hours of travel beneath the ancient city on their dark-grouted tiles.
The clack of the steel wheels on the railway tines, the rattle of the swaying aluminum cars as they whisk through the constricted underground, the bark of the audio warning "Mind the gap, mind the gap".
This subterranean transportation system has made movement possible for millions daily through one of the most constricted, highly trafficked, and wealthy cities on earth. But it has provided so much more, pride- in it's engineering marvel which has withstood the pressures of public traffic, and the weight of the surrounding earth alike for over a hundred years; and during Londons most trying days, these round, tiled walls gave life saving shelter to thousands during the Second World Wars' Blitz.
But this year, just weeks after I left this great city, this very subway which I whisked through to tour the rich sights and experiences of London, was bombed. Beginning with Kings Cross station- one which I frequented during my stay; bombs ripped through the aluminum shell of the cars, splintering the trademark tiles, warping the indelicate ribbons of steel track with it's massive heat.
This institution which has contributed so much to this city, and indeed to the world, was used to kill innocent human beings on their way into the city- becoming pawns in the bloody game of international policy, tools of oppressive fundamentalism the world over. The sobering hate which courses through this world becomes so apparent, when written in blood on the cracked, dark-grouted tiles of the London Underground.