On the 7 train

A man who looked like an older, relatively unkempt Neil Patrick Harris took a digital camera from the front pocket of his ripped jeans and snapped a flash photo of the half-empty late-night car. He was covered in fine dust, from buttons-missing corduroy shirt to loosely laced short boots. Not your standard tourist. So why...?

On the Q this morning I ran into my supervisors of last summer, of ballet camp times. Turns out they live ten blocks from me. How awesome is that?