1 Train, Uptown
Sometimes, people on the subway just want to talk.
to anyone.
I’m not sure why so often I seem to be the one the talk to, but i can always spot them.
He made a beeline for me, before we even got on the train. predictably, the coversation started on common ground; tattoos. He was shorter than me, his build was slight, he wore a vest, a cap and low slung jeans… his skin was a patchwork of DIY artwork. he has two tears, camoflaged against his dark skin. He was enigmatic. It would be fair to say i was enthralled immidiately.
Quickly, he began asking me how i was finding living in the city, and imparting his experiences… he told me contrary to what the press and goverment said, Manhattan was more dangerous now than it ever had been. He told me he’d run the streets for over 20 years. He’d lost family (both biological and social) to what he saw as the “scum” of the city. We talked about his attempts to change his way of life, and his dreams to live a simply life on a beach in Mexico…
…and at 82nd street he was gone.
August 26th 2008
