there’s something about the new york subways that make me want to fall in love.
in the midst of the morning rush, the soulless faces, the unpleasantry of the atmosphere—its imperfections, robbed of all its beauty by the ignorance it surrounds—there’s something charming and enchanting and alluring.
i find myself akin in physicality to the molds of clay nearby, armored with the sweet sounds of melodies to accompany my commute.
i take note of the way my body melodically sways, just like theirs, as the wheels of the subway cart glides and even screeches through its tracks.
while all the world is in a hurry, and i find myself in rhythmic movement as the rest, i begin to slow to a pace nonexistent in those who don’t know love.
but who am i to say i know what love is?
as i stand on the platform pensively, delving deeply into thought, my mind buried into pages of words, i feel a gush of wind touch the skin on my face as the subway makes its way to me.
and in the midst of the unbearable, there is something about the new york subways that lure me into this feeling, a fantasy, fictitious to most.
and for a short moment, on that seven minute train ride, i do find love: in the things unlovable at first glance.