View from the night train

Source of image: Pinterest // unknown

Houses.
Windows.
Shirtless man looking for something in his living room.
Next door,
A woman walks around the room sorting things, until she halts in front of something and pauses.
Another home a kitchen, mother, a woman cooks food, a child walks in looking for something.
Another room, two women sit together and chat, sisters.
The man in the living room switches on the tv, sits down, now only his head visible watching big boss, he waits for his wife to bring the food.
The woman to the right, combs her hair, this section, then that, then this again. She parts it, combs through, thin and wide; oiled greasy, she lets the grease touch her hands, you see why she stands there pausing, a mirror.
The woman now leaves the kitchen, an empty room. Utensils and plates with no gender marked on them.
A living room gets lit with no presence entering however,
The woman in the mirror, looks back, first she sexualizes, liking what she sees, then she feels aroused, then disgusted, ashamed of feeling this way about herself, she feels tired as she routinely combs her hair, she wonders am I an object, am I desirable?
The woman in the kitchen reappears, packing Tiffins, un-bothered of her appearance, it’s one task at a time before leaving for work, and then she can leave home and it’s trivialities behind too.
The light next to it goes off.
Simultaneously the living room too.
A kid and a mother appear in the other.
And so on it goes.
Home.
Homes.
People.