It was strange to me to find folks all alone in such a crowded place.
Folks in a lonely place. Emotionally, not physically.
Grand Central Station
I liked going here. My mother has always said our home
is like "Grand Central Station." She is right in one way...
we have lots of friends here.
However, with the train station those people are
always on their way somewhere else in a hurry.
At our house, people don't hurry through.
Which I am glad for.
Little Italy.
As the Man Prom King says...a photo with a story.
Photographic evidence that I really was at the UN--
not in Tahiti recovering from a hair transplant surgery.
No really, I knew a guy who shall remain nameless that did that.
This was interesting.
It was noonish, and she had stole away in the UN Building
to pray to Mecca. I happened upon her while I was
going through the photo exhibit.
The reason why I found this so ironic was that
not just two minutes earlier, I had been in a side room
called the Meditation Room, and I was praying to my God
thanksgiving for my opportunity this week.
When I saw her, it made me think that she and I are
When I saw her, it made me think that she and I are
not that different. I wanted to tell her about the prayer room
across the lobby, but she was kneeling over for so long I couldn't
get her eye contact. If I had tapped her shoulder, I would have
defiled her and she would have been unclean to pray so
I let her be. It was a tender moment for us
both to share, with out her even realizing it.
