The woman seated in front of me on the train pulls out her phone to check it, and on the lock screen is a close up of a single rose on a pale green background. The rose disappears as she punches in her code, and I wonder about her: what kind of woman is she, inside her head, and how does she see herself, and how is that expressed in her pretty, but slightly old-fashioned, aesthetic?
I think about when I was younger, when I used to play music because it was the only way I felt I could get out of my head, breach the loneliness I lived with pretty much all the time - I wanted to merge with everyone and feel what they felt, make them feel what I felt.
As I'm getting off the train, I see someone I sort of know, but I slow down a little until he's walking ahead of me, half-a-block or so in front, and we both walk in the same direction toward home separately, so I don't have to speak to him.
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One year ago today: Becoming Something Beautiful
Two years ago today: Another Long Walk Through Winter
Three years ago today: Spite
Four years ago today: She said it would be cold
Nine years ago today: 2-21-08 This Old, Cold World
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