There is a train down the Hudson River to Grand Central Terminal. It is a beautiful ride from Irvington where I live. It’s packed with commuters every morning and we yawn holding coffee and newspapers, rolling past the tug boats and the Palisade cliffs.
A thin bridge arches high above the confluence of the Harlem Canal where the Columbia University rowing crew sweep hard against the current in side by side training. We rattle past the other commuters, who back up on the freeway in their cars, passed the graffited littered walls, onto the elevated tracks of Harlem, then down under Park Avenue. We disembark into the human river of Grand Central Terminal, it’s impossible not to touch as each person makes their own way to their final desitnation. I finally emerge into the glass canyon, the fresh air, and the excitement of a New York City day.