baggage's Diaryland Diary

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makeup please

The lady sitting across the aisle from me has been preening and combing herself into oblivion for about 30 minutes now. First makeup, then hair. Now, she's finishing up by rolling a lint remover over her black jacket. In many ways, the train is an extension of home. People bring breakfast, read the paper, work and, of course, apply makeup despite the rolls and bumps of the tracks. Isn't it scary to have a sharp utensil millimeters from your eye while in a moving vehicle?
Considering the length of some commutes, it makes sense that the train has become a sort of neverland-not really work, but not really home either. You recognize people-claim the same spot everyday, say hello to familiar faces, have "good morning" conversations and the like, yet are still surrounded by strangers.

8:25 p.m. - 2005-05-02

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