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A mother and her young son take a seat as the doors close. An older woman in business attire reads a newspaper. A young man sifts through his backpack and removes a notebook. He studies it intently, perhaps preparing for a waiting test. I thumb through an outdated Art News magazine. The rhythmic motion of the train lulls me into a trance. Magazine forgotten, I withdraw into myself. I stare blankly out the window as the city passes by. We sit nearly motionless in our own little worlds. Ensconced in our own activities, we are only vaguely aware of one another. Yet, as passengers, we have entered into an ongoing narrative. As we come and go our stories are picked up and left off at the station. |