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I don't know this girl is just way cooler than I ever was--what with her big bike and leather and giant chain around her waist and silver studs and earbuds and nonchalant stare. I bet she brews her own whiskey. Me? I just go to the liquor store and buy it. Like a little bitch.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

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Winter Vortex early morning paralyzation.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

They are a couple. She had get head on his shoulder and I MISSED it. He bought a lot of legos.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

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Lady, I appreciate so much about you. The two things I dig the most are your brows and the expression on your face. Thank-you.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

 


 

Look. Think. Ask yourself  ’is a man dressed up as a wall-street-human version of a subway site specific production of Star Wars, with he playing Jabba the Hut?’  He was SO sprawled out…. he kept nodding off… his coat color is so specific. (Admit it! You see it, too!)

 

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AuthorSarah Graalman


They are french tourists. They were like that the whole train ride (aside from when he’d kiss her on the forehead and say something perfect in french). eventually a statue will be mounted somewhere of this exact pose in honor of their love on the L train.

 

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AuthorSarah Graalman


I think this man might be an angel: I have seen him 3 days in a row. He is always in crisp whites. And he chats lovingly to every person who smiles at him. LOOK AT HIS LOVING FACE!!! So pure. He’s the angel of the R train!

 

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AuthorSarah Graalman

Yes. You. In the middle. I love you. (I had to make myself top staring at him, because I loved him so much, all at once).

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AuthorSarah Graalman

I assume it’s broken, that motorcycle. Because, I spent a LONG TIME wondering why something that moves for you was carried downstairs and placed upon something that moves for you.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

Walkman vs. Kindle

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AuthorSarah Graalman

Yes! Yes to you, man dressed like that. Your shoes are white, your beard is white, and you’re eatin’ potato chips and chillin’ at Court Street. 

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AuthorSarah Graalman

Please take off either your hat or your glasses. One of the two. You don’t have to take off both. Please. Just one. Your hat makes me hot. I feel so suffocated by you reading the book with glasses and with your giant hat on. Please. I. can’t. breathe.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

I’m NOT trying to make fun of this woman. But seriously. She looked like that in my direction very closely to me for half an hour and it was extremely unsettling.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

They are not a couple. They do not know eachother. She is an ‘over the shoulder reader’ to the highest degree. She was laughing at the article she was reading of his. He knew it. And was NOT HAVING IT so he was pretending it was’t happening. 

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AuthorSarah Graalman

Two different women. One shared emotion.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

I really wanted to ask him what the sky looked like on his planet, for he comes from the planet Hippstertron! He gets back to his mothership by turning the frequency of his headphones to Dubstep (or whatever the kids are listening to these days).

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AuthorSarah Graalman

1. He’s writing poetry. 2. His entire suit is not only red, but is RED CORDUROY. 3. His converse are spotless. 4. Pure love. Truly.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

'Nothing to see here, folks… i'm just gonna distort my body and walk on my elbows.'

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AuthorSarah Graalman

This falls under the category of “fabulous men”. Are you curious about what the man on the left is sketching? He was sketching me, and trying to act like it wasn’t happening. He’s the old timey version of me. I’m the lazy modern techonlogy sketch artist.

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AuthorSarah Graalman

The lady on right was TOTALLY onto me. And then I looked at all of us other folks in our drab tshirts and shorts and thought “boring us”. And they were passing that baby around and I was with some friends. We were on our way home from a baseball game and I wanted to scream “I love new york!”, and Kate was like “why don’t you pretend you’re showing me something” because I was just BLATANTLY snapping photos. It was a good night. The city felt all crackly and alive.

 

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AuthorSarah Graalman