Dear Diary:
Subway (noun):
The underground place of transformation from weary cynic to believer; where you meet a 7-year-old boy to your right who asks you for a helpful hint on his puzzle as he gently kicks your leg as the train rocks along, while on your left, a lady helps shush your baby back to sleep.
The place where you rush after having stood impatiently in line in the punishing cold for an egg white and cheese on a roll — the line that sentenced you to a late arrival at work; where the memory of all that vanishes, and you quietly give your breakfast away without a second thought.
Where a complete stranger with a perhaps not so very clean hat just might nod off on your shoulder, someone who is already done with their day’s work before yours even begins, and you decide you don’t even really mind at all; the place from where you emerge, blinking in the daylight on the busy street above, renewing your vow to take better care of your neighbors.
Whoever said New York was too cold and rushed and rude for their liking has never been to my New York.
-- Metropolitan Diary, New York Times
I love this so much.
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