Ted Hughes’ Birthday Letters is magnificent, but hard to read on the train. I picked it up for the first time in years this morning and wept on the 3 train. Missed my stop too.

Lest you think this display of emotion happens rarely, just yesterday I cried laughing on the 2 train. I was watching THE FOOT FIST WAY on my iPad. I think spit may have flown out my mouth and onto someone sitting nearby. Hopefully on clothing, not mouth. Sorry, ma’am.

My utter lack of “street face” is a bit embarrassing, but this kind of escapism sure beats getting annoyed by fellow passengers on a crowded train. Transcendence on the daily commute is not easy to come by.