A/C train, Fulton Street Platform, December 17, 2013
I followed the mesmerizing music. It was Amy, playing an electric violin. During a break, I asked her. She was as magnetic as her music. But she wasn’t feeling well. I promised I would decontaminate the pen.
Restless. At peace.
Shivering to get art
the beast. I
play though the
chills, turning them
into raw emotion.
The chills are my
employers, helping me
to relay my own message.
Now that’s emotional
intelligence.