Reblogged from dianavilibert :
I saw her through the window as the B train pulled up to my platform this morning, her face twisted in a silent, pained grimace, a Cubist sculpture of splotchy skin, wet cheeks, unbrushed hair. As as I sat down and the doors closed, I noticed the man sitting next to her, his hand placed softly…
A beautiful vignette.
I read with a teaspoonful of longing.
A beautiful vignette.


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