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Run On

Run On

March 2, 2019 11:59 pmComments are Disabled

Venturing into Queens on a Saturday night, on the elevated track looking out on fluorescent tenement windows sliding by, hugging the creaking shell of the train as it pulls around a turn, spying through a lone lit office window a hunched worker hammering out a weekend project, feeling the blast of cold as the doors whoosh open at each stop, imagining the mouth watering authentic Greek cuisine awaiting us at the end of our journey, straining to distinguish the hushed chatter filling the car, watching the sky darken as we snake further and further from Manhattan and its sparkles of yellow light glimmering in the distance, I marvel that no one, nowhere has ever had this exact experience in this exact way, that my vantage point on the world is unique at this point, and furthermore that every person on earth in every city and on every farm has their own world rushing by, with their own viewpoint and their own experience, such that there exists no blog, no book, no film or any other medium sufficient to tell every story that could or should be told.

And that’s sad, in a way. But also hopeful in that there will always be a voice that hasn’t been heard yet.

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