As I was headed home the other night, I noticed that the man across from me on the train had hands like yours. He was reading Steinbeck.

The latino next to me was tapping his foot to a beat that only he could hear. I imagined a spanish love song, until he pulled the cover insert of Tapestry from his pocket.

It's not something I see everyday - your hands, Steinbeck on the subway, and a Mexican guy listening to Carol King.