There are certain nights, when the trains are scarcely populated, but still occupied (by the drunks, the depressed, wanderers, and me) that I feel like riding to the end of the line. My soundtrack? Chopin, at full volume. I create a silent film of the late night misfits. They writhe and converse, discussing the politics of their night, liquid philosophers! But they are clowns in my film, and I'm smiling till midnight.
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