connecticut, a photo series

connect

bound

bloom

10017, a photo series

instruction.

sleek/shimmer.

corner wheel.

rain coming.

sunrise (fairfield).

metro author.

taunt.

cloud & wire: a mobile upload

My nap on the train served me well.

fairfield>>>grand central

I commuted from Fairfield this morning: something that is 1. savage as I need to wake up two hours earlier and 2. somewhat lovely as sleeping on the train is comforting. The buzz, the whirl. Warm in your jacket. The key is to get on the express so that the train isn't making stops that jolt you awake with additional movement and gusts of cold air.

Upon arrival I gathered up my things and emerged into the honey glow of Grand Central. I love the convergence of all voices and sounds into one muffled mess. The peculiar smell and vaulted ceilings. Folks heading to work, to school. Home. Tourists stuttering the movement to take photos. You feel important as you shuffle through- towards your next destination. I stopped to take a Polaroid.

things found fairfield, a photo series

autumn: meet winter.

penetrate, cloud & cords.

bobbles and streaks.

warrior man.

linguistics, grammar.

doe eyes.

he hungers.

the cold car.

The platform offered little comfort this morning. I glanced down the tracks of the Fairfield station, down to my watch. Should have been here 2 minutes ago.

In the distance I heard the Metro North scream. I let go of my breath and pulled my hat on. A few men shuffled their Wall Street Journals into their suitcases.

We stepped onto the first car. I settled. Noticed a few jarred faces in the mostly empty seats. Then: the sight of my breath startled me.

This is not warmer than outside.

A conductor shoved through the doors, "Oh nice and toasty back there, folks. No seats though."

A passenger barked, "What is this?! The Polar Express?!"

I slipped into crammed subway car fantasies. Briefly considered asking the woman across from me if she'd like to cuddle.

-45 minutes of stealing glances into the next car, silently reveling in the fact that I caught the express, no stops would slow me before Grand Central-

I pierced the silence, "I'm thinking of jumping ship."

Isolated pools of laughter accumulated. A man offered, "28 minutes. My toes? Are they still there?"

We slowed near the Bronx, "I'm doing it. I'm going to-"

"Me too!" A small woman popped up.

"I feel a bit guilty for leaving you behind," I exchanged glances with my fellow Arctic warriors.

A few nods slipped: we understand. Forge ahead.

(I later discovered it was eight degrees Fahrenheit this morning).




Image: USA Today

images, fairfield train station

empire cuicado

black ice