on which I want desperately to post but on which I feel an utter lack of words. I say that but I also wonder at times like this whether a lack of words isn’t really just a lack of the courage to write them or to face what I think at all.
I stood up and walked to the other side of the room and noticed a small puddle of muddy water on the floor right where I was squatting. It somehow makes me happy to see evidence of my having been here tonight; I feel something like a ghost.
I’m imagining a scene in which a man comes home from work by subway after long hours at the office. As he goes up the stairs from the station to the street he sees a small flower growing in a crevice where the station meets the sidewalk. His first impulse is to pick it and carry it home with him, but just as his fingers clench the stem he feels a pang of guilt and stops. He lets go, stands up, and backs away, bumping into several people. He walks half a block to the corner and has to wait to cross the street. While he waits he looks back toward the station. At first he feels shock, believing the flower to be absent, but then he realizes that his view is obscured. He shrugs and walks home, but when he arrives he feels an incompleteness about the day and pours himself a double scotch before going to bed early.
I took the 3-train home even though it was on the 1-train track and hit the 1-train stops. I did this because the MTA man on the platform told me it was a 3-train making all 1-train stops. What I want to know is why it’s a 3-train in that case… if it’s on the track of the 1-train and it makes those stops, then why is it not the 1-train? One car in the train had the (1) sign out, but all the other cars had the (3) showing.
I don’t suppose this puzzle merits this level of attention or is indeed even a puzzle at all.
I’m gonna work on some photos, I think.