Mark Tiegs

Therefore I Am

Shit. There's nothing I can do. I get on the train. It's packed with men with worn faces. I sit beside a man who might be sleeping. From my bag, I remove my small black journal. It's too crowded to add anything to my journal. The last entry describes my meeting with my banker. The smell in the cab is overwhelming. What I need is space and time. The description of the meeting with my banker is dull, I don't have enough money for him to care.