Truant Memphis
Pages From The Filling Station

Subway

8/12/2021

 
I used to ride the subway like an open wound, chest peeled back from a bleeding heart. Such a small space, fit to burst with life, every inch of air spoken for, disparate masses huddled in shared present experience, yet so often completely, sorrowfully, alone. Weary face after weary face. I've never seen more people in such a lonely place.
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