Love, Are We There Yet ?

Every morning on the subway I see thousands of faces. Some are re-runs of mornings past. Reading kindles, emails, real books (self-help crap and novels), daily news, new york times, wall street journal, village voice, some free papers, school books, or nothing at all. Some are bleeding high pitch noise from their headphones, unaware that we can hear them sing along. Grinding teeth, sleepy, tired, bored… nobody seems happy. Well, sometimes there is a couple still in their honeymoon phase, smooching and sharing their cheesy conversation with the whole train car.

In the evenings the same faces are in worse shape. Images of lost hope and isolation. And the mariachi musicians slightly out of key, breakdance kids (when there is enough room for their jumps), bible preachers, sobbing theatrical performances and indifference. Crossing Manhattan bridge (on my way home) the images of the city remind me of the glitter and riches promised to everyone but very few scratch or smell.

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