There's a specific slant of light that happens on the 6 train around 5:40pm now. The sun gets low over the East River and for about four stops, everything inside the car goes amber.
I noticed it today somewhere between 33rd and Grand Central. A man reading a worn paperback. A kid asleep on his mother's shoulder. All of them glowing like a Wong Kar-wai frame.
I love October in this city with an embarrassing intensity. September is still pretending to be summer. November is already bracing for the cold. But October just lets you breathe.
The 6 train at golden hour in October is the closest New York comes to softness. I rode it today from the office near 28th, meaning to switch to the N at 59th and get home to Astoria. I almost missed my transfer because I was staring out the window like a tourist.
It reminded me of Ahmedabad in a strange way. Not the architecture, obviously. But my dadi used to make us sit on the terrace during that last hour of light before dinner. She called it the kind hour. Said the day gives you one soft moment before it leaves.
I used to roll my eyes at that. Now I'm chasing it on a subway platform in Queens.
I picked up a chai from the little Egyptian spot near Ditmars, the one that gets the spice almost right if I close my eyes. Walked home past the stoops where the old Greek men argue about things I'll never understand.
The 6 train at golden hour in October doesn't fix anything. My rent is still too high. My inbox is still a crime scene. But for four stops, I forgot all of it.
Catch the kind hour if you can this week. It doesn't wait.
Love,