Waiting (West Oakland Station)

I was determined to use my daily commute time wisely. Over the months, I tried reading, drawing, knitting. And then I started to look out the window. Unknown actors on a narrow stage flickered by, glimpsed and then gone, like grainy stills from a Super 8 movie that faded long ago. Our paths intersecting in an instant, altered by speed, a plastic lens, and dirty windows. Coming and going, sometimes standing still, different films, different seasons, always the same camera.