Names and Faces
"But I attach myself only to names and faces; and hoard them like amulets against disaster."
dress and skirt c/o //
flats
New York never ceases to fascinate me. Its eclectic taste in cuisine, its wild and bold sense of fashion, its diverse melting pot of beings--the city has it all, and its nonstop leisure keeps life interestingly on the edge. Everyday is a new adventure and the curiosity of odd wonder keeps you curious for more.
I take the Path from NJ into NY everyday--a routinely endeavor of mundane sorts, a brief ride with fellow commuters embarking on the city pilgrimage. Everyone's faces are long with traverse thoughts and trekking patience awaiting ultimate destination. They all mind their own businesses, un-phased and unaware, carrying on with personal habits. But every now and then, two brave strangers break the contained silence and linger into an intimate conversation. When I'm not hopelessly lost in wonder over cartoon ads, I naturally eavesdrop, a favorite pastime on this humdrum train. It's like watching a potential love story unfold or possible lifelong friendship born in the unlikeliest of places, making it all the more beautiful and significant. I've had the inordinate bliss of naturally third-wheeling a chance encounter between a guy and girl who both shared an uncomfortableness on a packed train, which lead to a 20-minute conversation and then the exchange of numbers as each parted ways. I've listened in on a sparked debate between a young girl and a teacher over a book she was reading on the Path, which bred an interesting conversation about literature and the great works. Casually playing standby witness among these accidental meetings, I listen in with purposeful intent, brilliantly amazed at the friendly ease.
New York has that graceful effect. One minute it's me-time on the busy streets and the next, it's the start of a glorious social affair. The rest of us are nosy passerbys happily intrigued and despairingly vicarious.
Photography by