| Letters and Diary Non-Fiction posted November 3, 2021 | Chapters: |
...15 16 -17- 18... 
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Intersections of place and time
A chapter in the book Memories of This World
Memories of this world ch. 17
by estory
It's the end of another summer and on a lazy afternoon I'm home from a day's work, laying on the sofa in the living room with the windows of the apartment open. The evening train from the east end of Long Island is roaring through town, carrying cars full of all kinds of people coming back to the city from their vacations. There are people looking out of the windows; fathers and mothers with their children, friends, lovers. Behind them are memories of sunset walks on lonely beaches, sandcastles and fishing trips, picnics in quiet little coves out at the end of our world. Ahead of them are office buildings and school, autumn mornings in the apartments of Manhattan.
But for me, listening in my apartment as their train went by, only the mournful note of the train horn fading away; that moment of their passing lost to the vastness of that sky and skyline. A mysterious intersection of time and place and strangers.
It's the end of another summer and on a lazy afternoon I'm home from a day's work, laying on the sofa in the living room with the windows of the apartment open. The evening train from the east end of Long Island is roaring through town, carrying cars full of all kinds of people coming back to the city from their vacations. There are people looking out of the windows; fathers and mothers with their children, friends, lovers. Behind them are memories of sunset walks on lonely beaches, sandcastles and fishing trips, picnics in quiet little coves out at the end of our world. Ahead of them are office buildings and school, autumn mornings in the apartments of Manhattan.
But for me, listening in my apartment as their train went by, only the mournful note of the train horn fading away; that moment of their passing lost to the vastness of that sky and skyline. A mysterious intersection of time and place and strangers.
But for me, listening in my apartment as their train went by, only the mournful note of the train horn fading away; that moment of their passing lost to the vastness of that sky and skyline. A mysterious intersection of time and place and strangers.
Shared moments and places between strangers in this world has always been a fascinating topic to me; this idea that people living disparate lives with very different experiences of life in this same space and time. I wanted to capture something of that intriguing idea in this little piece. The sound of the fading train horn has always been something romantic to me, a moment when you realize that people you will never know are sharing this same space and time with you, somehow. On their way from moments you will never know to other moments you will never know; and they will never know you, sitting there in your own little apartment, contemplating them. A sad facet maybe, of life. estory
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