7 am to Grand Central.
The red under belly of the salamander is still close. I unfurl my fingers and let him scamper. Each minute, each moment whisked away along with the swish of his tail.
Two seats in front, a silver haired man flips open a large, hard covered book, dark navy cover – so rare to see a real book. His index finger slides down the page, followed by the rustle of the page turn, a sound produced only from something grown from the Earth.
A lady, across from him wears a grape colored knitted hat, fluffy pom-pom on top, backpack on her lap. Her head leans against window, she’s fast asleep, her mouth partially open, breathing softly.
Man down the aisle, his head swaying, large muffs cover his ears, noise canceling head phones streaming, perhaps a tribute to Chuck Berry, or something soulful, the deep baritone of Barry White with Let the Music Play. [Read more…]