Tonight on the train, I took the Q, a train I never take that mysteriously to me curves only slightly and momentarily into manhattan, arching back into the bouroughs. When it dips out and up or out and down- it emerges out of the earth and loops itself onto the lighted bridges that gracefully connect these floating islands.
On the way into manhattan from queens there was essentially no one on the train. I plopped my bag next to me preparing for a silent ride home- a long hour stretch to consume a podcast or read the latest harpers.
Quickly we dove under the
His bag fell on my feet and I said sorry I have to say something- I just came from a performance where the artist was reading a piece of itali Calvino and hen I got on this train and you sat down next to me and were reading If on a winters night a traveller. And then I remember I met all those people in the Balkans and I. First read italo Calvino on a train and a bus and traveling through the Balkans. And I thought how these follow you- or you follow those that you seek after- travelled peoples and travels. And I chose to take the subway home over a cab for this reason- to watch and observe rather than to sit isolated swilling through shameless article after article served onto- dare I ruin this mood- Facebook feed.
I had a minor health scare recently. It made me feel so many things I had never felt before. In the most terrible way it made me imagine that I wanted the world to stop if I wasn't here. If I am brutally honest I wanted nothing to go on if there was not the possibility for me to witness or consume it-which for someone who simultaneously believes in ghosts and nothing after death... Well it makes absolutely no sense. And then I routine to tradition and good luck charms and amulets. And Facebook. And excerise. I momentarily and I suppose let's hope longer became crazed with throwing all tools at my disposal towards luck when only a few years ago I could have chosen science. But sometimes reason fails and smarts only come with age.