The woman sitting across from me on the subway continues her ritual: placing her fists on the line of her jaw and pushing her knuckles up to her cheekbones, then rapidly repeating that same gesture over and over. With her eyes closed in concentration, and the repetitive nature of her movements, she comes to resemble nothing so much as a hamster in its ablutions, caught in some kind of feedback loop. As I watch, she goes from mildly amusing, to creepy, and finally to boring, as all weirdos in New York who choose to practice their weirdness in public must eventually do.
Just when I think she’s never going to stop, she stops, and begins rubbing from her hairline down to the space between her eyebrows, and all of the sudden she’s interesting again.
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