Subway Chronicles, Vol. VI
Greetings, folks!
Beneath the city, stories ride beside us. I take photos to remember them—and words to imagine what they forget to say.
The Sleeper:
A man in a business suit sleeps upright on the 4 train, head gently knocking against the window at each turn. At his feet: a crumpled paper bag from a gourmet grocery store, and next to it, a shabbyviolin case. A finance guy moonlighting as a street performer — or is it the other way around?
Does he play Bach in the tunnels — not for money, but for his late wife, who loved to dance? Every night, he falls asleep on the way home from playing the same piece she loved. But… his the violin case is empty. He stopped bringing the violin years ago. He just sits on a bench, moving his fingers in silence.
The Note:
A teenage girl with blue hair and bitten fingernails watches her reflection in the dark window. She’s holding a wrinkled post-it note, written in thick Sharpie:
“You are enough. – Mom”
She presses it flat against the glass like a prayer. Did she plan to run away—or maybe just to be alone for a while—but found that note inside a tattered wallet she hadn’t opened in weeks? I too thought it was her mom’s handwriting, but she reveals she wrote it to herself, months ago, during a therapy exercise. She just forgot.
Because if not, I’m going to assume you hate stories, photography, and probably puppies too.
Because if not, I’m going to assume you hate stories, photography, and probably puppies too.
The Messenger:
A little boy rides the subway with a large man in a janitor’s uniform. The man doesn’t speak. The boy talks constantly, narrating everything: the ads, the other riders, even the rhythm of the wheels.
He says he’s teaching his dad English, word by word.
The boy isn’t his son. The man found him wandering outside a bodega a week ago. No one came for him. The man didn’t call the cops. He just started bringing him along, believing, somehow, that the city would return what it takes if you just keep moving.
“He’s not my son. But he talks to me like one. So I listen.”
Thanks for reading and being a subscriber.
’Til next time.
ak
Excellent photos and text.