Read Between the Lines

Fri, Nov 30

... when I've been here before

I ride the familiar train down the familiar tracks, each stop bringing up dozens of different memories. I ride past houses, familiar from the outside, and wonder what kinds of changes have taken place inside their walls while I have obliviously ridden past, week after week. I look at the people riding with me, wondering how many of them I've interacted with before in some way or another. How many have I made eye contact with, sat across from, said hello to, helped? The train stops at each stop, and I think back to the many, many times I've waited at those same stops; the places I've walked, the people I've walked with; the conversations we've had; the stores we've shopped in. And I wonder... what will the next memory be? The next place, the next time, the next person, the next conversation.

Heh. To think that all this mindwork could come from taking the c-train downtown for a class. I think I'm a little too focused on memories. They're wonderful things, but it seems like everything in this city has a memory of some sort attached to it! Kinda makes it hard to forget.
infinite || abyss

posted at 1:53 p.m.

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