(no subject)
This morning, as I walked through Grand Central Station for the third morning in a row, feeling run-down, overworked, and depressed, I looked up at the big blue ceiling of the Grand Concourse and wished that the crowded station was more like that scene in The Fisher King where all the grim commuters suddenly start waltzing under that ceiling full of stars.
This evening, as I came home through Grand Central, I saw a guy down on one knee, and a girl crying and saying "yes", and then they just hugged and hugged while grim commuters swarmed all around them. Not quite a waltz, but a charming start to the long-awaited weekend nonetheless.
This evening, as I came home through Grand Central, I saw a guy down on one knee, and a girl crying and saying "yes", and then they just hugged and hugged while grim commuters swarmed all around them. Not quite a waltz, but a charming start to the long-awaited weekend nonetheless.