The window bares the site of rundown towns, while passangers listen and read, avoiding the likes of one another. I’ll stare out the window, my mind wandering past the empty parks and vacant restaurants.
I barely catch the 8:53 am train to Newark, New Jersey en route to Manhattan. After the 20-minute commute to Newark, I board the Path to the World Trade Center, where I then rush towards the Chambers Street E-train in a New York stampeed of business men and overdressed women.
My somewhat hectic and pseudo daily travel into the City provides me with a signifigant amount of time for nothing; the perfect nothing. As the train comes to a halt, I find myself in need of more nothing. I long for more time on the train with no stops; I hope for it to keep going and going, the conductor never mentioning a destination.
