One more mistake was made, stop, the one in which I let you know that I had made a mistake. Stop. If we could tarry in the underground and persue the equivocal decisions we made, stop, things would be different. Stop. But I don’t know if this can happen. Stop. I can blame it on whatever I want, stop, but at the end of the day, I’m not strong enough to grab your hand and, stop, at least lead you in the direction I’d like just to see you follow. Stop. Just to see. Stop. Just because this makes everything different. Stop.
Subway MapSubway Philosophy is about New York, culture, sex, publishing, memories, alcohol, or a combination of the above. Originally taken from drunken musings on the subway, it has evolved into something extraordinarily similar to most young blogs: which is to say, redundant, romantic, and woefully introspective.
Current Subway ReadingWhite Teeth