Riding the subway in New York is the best way to take on a journey through the very soul of this great metropolis. It's a place where the rich and poor rub shoulders, where love and hate intermingle, where the rough edges of life are laid bare, where the great melting pot of humanity comes together in a symphony of chaos and order. It's a city within a city, a world within a world. @2017-11-30, New York City 🇺🇸

Riding the subway in New York is the best way to take on a journey through the very soul of this great metropolis. It's a place where the rich and poor rub shoulders, where love and hate intermingle, where the rough edges of life are laid bare, where the great melting pot of humanity comes together in a symphony of chaos and order. It's a city within a city, a world within a world. @2017-11-30, New York City 🇺🇸

I love the subway in New York.

I love walking down the filthy stairs - forget about those shiny escalators.

I love that everything is terribly old, the trains and the rats.

I love those sudden breaks that make the passengers’ bodies wave.

I love hearing them laughing hard and cursing loud.

I love seeing people reading a paperback.

I love watching someone falling asleep while sitting down, standing up, or lying on the ground.

I love being aware of crossing the Manhattan-Brooklyn border from losing the cellphone signal under the East River.

I love that trains are always late, pissing off everyone except for the farewelling friends.

I love the puzzling map, once again fooling the travelers into an expedition unplanned.

I love that those who obviously can’t dance or sing still work hard to put up something, obviously not just for making a living.

I love the blaring sound of a train flying underground, and how it scares the shit out of pedestrians lounging under the sun.

I love that there is no safety fence - the wildest display of contempt for the cowards who don’t give a chance.

I love waiting alone on the empty platform past midnight, where and when I had the most promising ideas, as well as the most painful regrets.

I love the hallucination of time traveling when seeing the amber tunnel lights flickering through the windows of an accelerating train - to what point of life do you want to go back?

I love that she once told me to propose by the Seine, not the 7th Ave. She’d still say yes though, and I know that.

I love watching anxious commuters running for their lives and clueless tourists trying hard to get it right. People are so obsessed with reaching the “destinations”. But life, made of thousands of those train rides, is never about arriving anywhere other than the journey that took you through the day and night.

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