Stoicism has a face
a drenched one.
This is the face of the Irish Commuter, at 7.25 AM.
It's hard to tell from this phone photograph, but it was bucketing down.
It could tell that a river of rain was running down his neck, inside the jacket, making a slow but resolute icy cold progress downward, soaking his jumper, his t-shirt, his underwear even.
The Irish Commuter did not budge. Pah, it's but a bit of moisture.
And the toes stewing in soaked socks encased in saturated nylon runners. It's good for the growth.
Of fungus. The one that produces that unique Commuter Foot smell.