We Leak Upward When We Try To Hide

I wanted the exact jolt when a private reflex spills into shared space to feel ecstatic instead of shameful. I split the bus in two: below, touch and metal and breath; above, weightless mercury rising where gravity should press it down, reflecting everyone into one nervous, luminous body. Look at the seam where skin becomes interface — the upward drift of mirrored filaments is the laugh you can’t swallow, the boundary dissolving into capability you didn’t know you had.