Today, on the subway, there was a pale, elderly woman, with a white scarf wrapped around her white hair, her white skin lighter than the soft cream of her coat.
And next to her was a man with skin as dark as the night sky, his young face smooth and darker than his black coat. I have never seen skin so darkly, so beautifully, black.
They were strangers. They took no notice of each other.
But I noticed them, and together, they were beautiful. What I love about New York - about New York in 2008, as opposed to 1958 - is that sometimes difference is just ignored. They were just people on a train. Just beautiful people on a train.
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