And old is the dust that flows
Through city veins
The stampede of time like footfalls on concrete line the furrowed brow of a 45 year old man in profile in the fading light of day

To wait five minutes
is long.
But a year of happiness
is short.

To wait for the metro
is boring, tedious and cold.
It feels meaningless.
Or is it
a quiet moment
in the busy everyday life
where nothing is required of you
and you can just be?
Enjoy this pause.
To wait for the metro
is to live life now.

A mind  like a cathedral built out of ruins. Quiet, haunted, beautiful.
He's still walking its halls, lighting candles, naming ghosts.

He isn't healed. But he's aware. And in that awareness, there's a strange kind of peace.