It’s a common Sunday morning. Common carriage, common people. Not too many people though, because it’s Sunday and it’s really early in the morning. But every person in this carriage has a story to tell, some good, some bad. They can all share their stories of laughter, of sadness or anger. As usual there is a mix of people: black, white, Asian. And all of them have different jobs. Some are builders, some are financial advisors, some are waiters, IT guys, jobless students, doctors, managers, chefs, teachers and who knows, maybe someone else. And behind each and every person there is a story. Everyone is thinking about something different or maybe, just maybe everyone is thinking about the same thing. But it’s not important what they are thinking about. What is important that right now is that all these different people are united by something: they all are in this carriage on Jubilee line on a train going from Stratford to Stanmore. And it doesn’t matter which stop they all came in: Stratford, Canning Town, Bermondsey, London Bridge. And it doesn’t matter which stop they are getting off, be it somewhere central like Green Park, or maybe they are going right to the end, to Stanmore. At this very moment they all are in this carriage, all together, united. Somebody is reading a fresh morning paper (and the hands are all black from the ink), somebody is studying, somebody is listening to music. And yet there are still some people who are just staring in the window, looking at the black walls of the tunnel, which is all wired up, whizzing by very fast. And of course, there are those who are asleep. It is Sunday morning after all. But the carriage continues moving and it doesn’t care who is in it and how many are there. It might be a hundred people, it might be none. The carriage will continue moving on Jubilee line from Stratford to Stanmore.