Subway Musings


It’s a way of sniffing people out. Of investigating them without knowing them; and learning them without question or judgement. When I spy beauty or personality or anyone aspiring to be anything – my heart leaps. And when that beauty is anything familiar, wether reminiscent of something I used to love, or projecting something I long to understand, I can’t help but allow my thoughts to wander into imagination – from here inspiration is bound to overtake  me.

The shoes, reminding me of a 1940’s war nurse uniform, are neatly bowed and worn with humble opaque stockings. Pixie hair, cropped and efficient showing off a perfect face. Brows arched. Yes! ~we are kindred. She knows some of the things I know, some of the things about this immediate world and even more centrally this person knows things that are a part of this city. We both live here. If I rattled off to her the places I’d rummaged or perused in the last months, she’d recognize the shop names and streets, and this (for some reason) gives me great peace.

Fashion is such a romantic gesture. Such thoughtful gift.

“Sir your bag is just a little bit open, and I was worried something might fall out.” – Me

Blind men dressed all in black on the subway today, all black and then his shock of white hair – his silver crown. Headphones on. Potentially listening to: music, or the news, or a story, or some old sounds I’ve never heard.

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