Bodies pressed together on the platform to go up the stairs, the mob is particularly, and pleasantly, fragrant this morning. The bracing odor of soap, a gentle caress of gardenia from someone's lotion, a bass note of cloves from a man's aftershave.
A short, roundish woman in a pill-box hat and a bright blue quilted jacket bumps into me and looks up quickly with the half-fearful, half-defiant look New Yorkers get when they don't know if you're going to be cool or not. With a small, relaxed gesture, I motion her to go ahead, and an expression of momentary, grateful surprise passes across her face and vanishes as quickly as it arrives.
One year ago today: Firewall
Two years ago today: Inspired
Three years ago today: The Shameful Science
Nine years ago today: 1-13-08 Flea Market