My friend Genevieve Futrelle has posted pictures from her new tiny snapshot camera, forty bucks’ worth of cheap, web-friendly image capture. I was astonished by her picture of three ladies on the subway train — evocative of “Wise Blood” and Duane Hansen sculpture, with frozen gazes trisecting the frame.

I wished I had a little Blog camera for the ride home this evening. Weeknight Amtrak trains are all garmentos and commuters; the Friday night train is filled with civilians. Tonight, the four facing chairs across the aisle displayed an Allegory of Youth and Age: an elderly man in his seventies sat sunk in slumber, his spotty hands resting on his knees, his chin on his breastbone and his hair awry. Across from him, knees touching, a pair of teenagers were heaped in a pile – the girl sprawling across her boyfriend’s lap, knees apart, tight green shirt rucked up past her stomach, emitting an adolescent cloud of unfocused sexual energy. The boyfriend was wearing a rubber Yoda mask, and all three were fast asleep. Ex Amtrak semper aliquid novi.