I have been noticing a lot of things on my walks around my neighborhood.
There is a mother sitting with her arm around her son. She’s tapping a beat with her hand and her feet, while he’s absorbed in his video game. One seat away is a pretty girl with long hair, reading a hard cover book. I can’t tell if she’s with the guy sitting next to her. They look like they go together but they aren’t really interacting so it’s hard to say. From the end of the car comes an overpowering conversation in Spanish. The volume makes me think it’s a fight but, in fact, it may just be a topic of passion. Another young girl is knitting; a first timer with instructions on her lap. Everyone else has headphones in their ears or is playing on their phone, minus the newest passenger with the orange scarf and orange hat, and the guy reading David Sedaris’ Naked at the end of the row seat. The energy is calm and people’s movement and speed convey that it’s a Saturday. To my right a woman dressed like a urban outdoorsmen opens and refolds her New York Times. We arrive at Delancey Street; I exit and walk toward the sounds of station performers singing out, “…people all over the world, join hands, start a love train, love train…”