- By Vivienne Gucwa
We wait for the city to move beneath our feet.
We wait for the universe to rise up from under the weight of our own gravitas; the movement of our world spinning on its axis.
And while we wait, the plaster crumbles, the paint peels, the train tracks rust; all suspended in their own decay like flies in amber.
We wait because it’s the only way to slow down as time pushes us forward further and further into the vast expanse of eternity.
We wait for the train to come.