MTA
MTA
The subway s warmness rescues you from the ice-cold platform (as in summer, its swimming pool coolness saves you from the sweltering heat). You take your seat. Before you look at any faces, you scan the shoes; left to right, for no particular reason. You pick the high
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heels with the purple straps, just across from you. Your eyes move up meet. A strain of hair has fallen over on eye. She is beautiful. You subway. You would also like to compliment her on her green eyes. But applies it. It is very red. Her nails are very short, no color. She
the legs, pass the calmly folded hands in her lap, until your eyes would like to compliment her on her shoes, but who talks in the who would talk. She takes lipstick out of her purse. Unashamed, she smiles back. From that moment on you travel together. Nor for long.
She gets up. You already have missed your stop. Yet you have met for eternity.
Text Michael Saur Photography Mathieu Asselin
2010 / 2009