Lunch, George Tooker, 1964, Columbus Museum of Art
Day after day they go to the cafeteria, bringing the remnants of last night's dinner. The worker bees bend over their food intent on little other than consuming the meal that will sustain them through the next four hours until the clock signals quitting time. Nothing ever changes nor do they expect it to. The days blend into one another as time marches on.
It would only take one person to look up, to smile, to start a conversation, to open up the drab world and bring in the light. But that would mean taking a risk.
Instead they opt for anonymity while sitting shoulder to shoulder. Automatons at the automat.
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