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Behind the Painting
Take the 7 Train to Grand Central on a Friday afternoon. Push through the warren of escalators until your feet hit the travertine floor. Walk out under the turquoise ceiling. Look up at the constellations. Return to a scene you draw every fall.
There’s a deep ledge on the west stair where you can rest your paints. Stop there. Look down at the ticketing booth. People are hurrying and strolling and waiting, casting slight shadows on the tan stone. Buy a ticket of your own. 6:45 on the Hudson Line. The leaves are changing along the river. What other reason do you need to get out of the city?
