To get here from where I was, I went under, over, monderful sub terrain.
What left of a message.
Through the pink door of the 42nd shuttle train.
Readers on the C train.
It was an A kind of night.
Call the other side while you still have your chance.
9202 E VIA53
Fifty nine lone rider, waiting for a single train late at night on fifty nine street station.
Left behind but not forgotten. The next train welcomes him with an open door.
The lean reader.
Stuffing the trash room. The first time I see that room open in years.
Nine 2 oh 2
Machinery of movement.
Wet paint posted under the stairs.
Sharp looking gentlemen.
Riding of the stormy day.