By Eshal Yazdani
It was on a dreadful commute home when I began to notice the names scratched onto the walls of each and every New York City subway car. Monday it was Mark. Tuesday it was Dylan. Wednesday, Fatima; Thursday, Kat; and Friday, Lucy (with a heart…!). The poorly carved letters, engraved with such care, resemble the jagged handwriting of a preschooler; it is something so inexplicably human. Though the scratches will inevitably fade and the steel of the cars will eventually corrode, Iād like to think otherwise. That the remnants of these people will linger long after time forgets who they are.
Wonderful work. Observant and poetic.
Very well written!! Will look for graffiti the next time I’m on the subway š
Poignant and thought-provoking, well done.
A routine observation digs deeper into the thought and comes out with a reflective inference. Nice, it is.
Perspective. Changes the way you think. Loved it