An Equinox

November 27, 2011
By Justin Greene BRONZE, North Woodmere, New York
Justin Greene BRONZE, North Woodmere, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Everything moves so slowly in reverse. The train finally moved from Philadelphia
and I'm coming home. Sunlight is gradually intensifying, illuminating this
cubicle of a seat to something happier than it should be. Thank The Postal Service. It's those little moments when the concept of fate seems extremely gratifying: the right song playing at that perfect moment. The water looks so
clean, like a Baptist's pool or a sapphire glistening under the inspector's light. Autumn trees, a picturesque myriad of auburn, goldenrod and burnt umber
coalescing into a warm gradient. How unfortunate to sit on a dilapidated pleather seat, feeling the disparity between isolation and the unknown rather than the crisp air's caress. How unfortunate to have the experience just to relinquish it on cue. Like exiting a dream sequence. Well don't wake me, because I plan on sleeping. Seconds merge to minutes, hours, days, weeks, months: a mitotic reversal. The apartment appeared distraught, but why let the superficial resonate? I saw Rome form overnight. The collegiate amphitheater, a monumental paradox. Following graduation, the necessity of competition dissipates. The past
dictated scarce bouts of excitement and detachment solely attributed to circumstance. The new frontier is the ideal overload of the cognitive senses. Friendships form at the sight of a hand's wave. The question remains, but in a different context. To live the college life is to divide by infinity. Such a bounty of possibilities does not separate easily. Whatever; the "challenge"
entices me. At this moment, I journey through a portal of sorts. Fragments of time rearranging themselves into a giant arrow pointing in the opposite
direction - I just entered Jersey. Wow, this moves faster than expected. I just want to touch the trees, but why is that so difficult? Seeing them from this box does not suffice. Let me breathe, as I can only suffocate for so long. We have finite lung capacities with good reason. Breathing inward and outward, outward and inward...New York approaches. Why must the train move in this direction?

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This article has 1 comment.

Dolly said...
on Dec. 1 2011 at 1:50 pm
A nice piece.  He turns a simple train ride into an adventure.

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