Beneath the ivory tower, beneath our feet, is another world.
Some say this is where the real people live. I’m not sure who the alleged fake people are, but I do know all sorts of people live everywhere. I know this because we all see each other on the train.
I like the train because it lets me see all the people who aren’t sitting on their sofas. Don’t get me wrong my living room is much more comfortable than a bus bench, but I think I’m a better person for getting out of the living room.
I especially like the bus and subway on Sunday mornings.
I know that if I see you getting off the train at 6am on Sunday carrying your dressed and sleepy daughter, you have likely been up since 4 or 5, and that you care. You care about where you are going, why you are going or have been, you are trying. No one gets a kid dressed in time to get off a train at 6am on a Sunday morning just for fun. You do it for a reason.
We don’t know each other. Some times we don’t even see each other. But here we all are. Coming, going, doing, maybe even wishing, hoping, or regretting. Whichever or whatever it is, it is good to be reminded that it is us.