The neighborhood was full of blonde braids and balloon animals on leashes. Little girls sat on stoops throwing pieces of bread at the sidewalks below. One by one and one by one, the little girls tore uneven pieces off loaves of challah and dark seeded rye. They tossed pieces until the rats grew full and scurried away into the gutters, leaving the sidewalks strewn with uneaten bread and pale, yellow leaves. Soon, the little girls were called in for lunch. It began to rain. The bread became bloated and the sidewalks turned spongy. The city smelled like yeast. Later, the rats emerged from the gutters, their eyes shining bright. The little girls were sent to bed without supper.
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