I'm here on the A train, where I get most of my good writing done
these days. The guy that was asking for change just got off, and a
mariachi band is coming through now, so I can finally hear myself
think. The cacophonous quiet of a subway during rush hour is
everything a man could ask for, to fill his creative juices.
Especially in the minutes soon after finishing my morning coffee, I
feel those juices flowing. This will get me through the rest of today.
I miss you.
- - -
Read BS's story "I, Etgar Keret."
w i g · l e a F