It was on a dreadful commute home when I began to notice the names scratched onto the inner walls of every New York City subway car. Monday it was Mark. Tuesday it was Dylan. Wednesday, Fatima, Thursday, Kat, and Friday, Lucy (with a heart…!). The poorly carved letters, engraved with such care, resemble the jagged handwriting of a preschooler; It is something so inexplicably human. Though the scratches will inevitably fade and the steel of the cars will eventually corrode, I’d like to think otherwise. That the remnants of these people will linger long after time forgets who they are.
Sue Clayton
22/10/2022 04:34:13 am
Would the preschooler ride the same subway in years to come and though time has forgotten, still remember the faded carved names. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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