The subway is a place for meetings. I was in the van stopped in front of the bench where he sat. Quiet reading, and was unfazed by the arrival of the train, you could almost say that not even heard the noise of the chains, brakes rushing on the platform. He kept sitting there, and the meter pulled and I gasped. Because he was. Although this was not your city, or your time, nor place, nor his life. But the subway is a place for meetings, and he had to be there, where I, at my fingertips.
The train went into the tunnel and its image is deleted, as usual. I guess I lost it forever or, at least for another good season.
The subway is also a place of missed ...
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