I married him against all evidence. I married him believing that marriage doesn’t work, that love dies, that passion fades, and in so doing I became the kind of romantic only a cynic is truly capable of being.
I photographed him first in the middle of May. He was still in the beginning of the book then, as the picture shows. I was happy to see him again, to see that he was reaching the end of it. I photographed him again. Then I sat there realizing how I had a little collection of pictures of him now. I wanted to tell him but I worried about how to say it. He happened to look up with a smile, so I just told him. He said he was aware of me when I photographed him that other time, and he was delighted by the chance that I encountered him again. He was very interested in this project and he continued on to express how he felt about the subways in general. “I love it here,” he said. “Even when I’m not coming from or going to work, it’s great to be here.” “There’s a stillness here,” he said. “The atmosphere is just great.” I completely agree with him, and he’s a great part of what makes it so.