A man died in the city a few months ago. His name, as far as I know, did not appear in any paper. It did not appear on T.V. or the radio. It happened in the subway, the 59th street station at Columbus Circle. The downtown D train that was just pulling into the station chopped him in half. His lower half under the train, his upper half on the platform. He may have been someone's husband or father. He was once someone's kid. Was he good to them that morning? His last, and were they good to him? Do they regret the last thing they said to him? Or do they remember it fondly.
life is short and can end in a flash. I wonder why people think they have all the time in the world? They dont.
Below is a video of the D train as it pulls into Ft. Hamilton.
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