in the dingy underground of manhattan, i board the subway train.

i'm drenched after to running from 13th and 3rd to union square in terribly rainy weather with the worst umbrella you can fathom -- so bad i'd rather not use it, and take the beating from the rain.

i enter front car. to my immediate right, an open few seats. i look around and see the crowd looks safe. sit in the first seat nearest the door.

reading my philosophy book, i begin to zone out, even as the train makes stops. morals, ethics, right and wrong. john stuart mill's statement right there has be thinking. the conversations around me seem less pertinent than the current state of thought.

the train exits the ground, showing me the night sky. it's slowly crawling toward the bridge. i put the book away, highlighter in the top right breast pocket of my tan army-navy safari jacket.

yes! we have arrived. why i am so fond of the Q train? the opportunity to cross over the manhattan bridge. such a beautiful view of downtown manhattan, then far off in the distance, a city within a city called "midtown manhattan."

tonight the downtown mahattan nightline is glowing bright. i'm transfixed by light reflecting off the shimmering water until a tugboat appears from under the bridge, going south. he chugs his way through the cold, stormy weather.

the trip is ending. we enter brooklyn. i pull the book back out.

back to thinking.

cool

Yeah, this was a nice little read =)

oh wow, don't read that. what a piece of crap. i was stoned as hell when i put this down. i never write stuff like this and i'm not sure why i even tried here.