A temporary glimpse into sadness
One morning, while dragging my mopey ass down into the Hoboken PATH station, a face caught my eye. I stopped and stared. The face stared back. I was lost in its expression, wondering why it looked so sad.
The longer I looked, the more I felt as though I was looking at myself. Deep rings under worried eyes floating over a concerned beak. OK, so I don’t have a beak, but I can find myself in fairly gloomy moods from time to time.
Next to the face was the number nine (I have this thing for things divisible by three). Was this the signature of the artist who created the face? Or a sign of some sort? Unfortunately I would never know.
By the next morning, my bird-like graffiti counterpart had been painted over.
