Friday, March 11, 2005

L train, 4pm. You-Labyrinth bag, big headphones. Me-Big hair, puffy jacket, seven-yard stare. Should've talked to you...

Of course it’s easy to fall in love with strangers on the subway—you’re not committing to every inch, every ounce, every hour of them. You’re not committing to anything. Except that moment, which asks nothing of you.