Sunday, November 25, 2007

ALL AWASH IN THE SEA OF "THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE; IT'LL HAPPEN AGAIN"

As usual, it is feeling much later than it actually is, and the darkness is encroaching in a way that would be mysterious and exciting if it signaled a snuggly autumn evening full of tv watching and carefree dreams, rather than a snap back into study-til-you-drop mode. We're at the train platform, site of so many sniffled goodbyes and classic waves as servicemen gallantly climb aboard. The train, unsurprisingly, is late, and we watch in chilly, melancholy silence as hot-rodders do skateboarding and bike tricks down the center strip of concrete that separates the northbound track from the southbound. A hipster dad manages two children, the youngest of which has toddled away with her stroller, and wails every time he lovingly approaches her with her little sweater in his hand for her to put on. He gives up and instead adopts a playful, hopping gait as he follows her, just a step behind, as she swerves around with the stroller. He keeps the sweater hidden behind his back so as not to upset her, but he's got it there right ready for the instant she gets cold.

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