There’s a passageway connecting Port Authority to Times Square – the Eighth Avenue subways to the Seventh – and one morning when I looked up I saw a poem up in the eaves, sequential like the Burma Shave billboards:
Why the pain?
Just go home.
Do it again.
Something changed then. I saw my life in scale: it was just my life. It was not momentous, and only now did I recognize that it had once seemed so to me; that was while my father was watching.
I saw myself the way I’d seen the cleaning women in the building across the street. I was just one person in one window.
No one was watching, except me.
– The Girls Guide to Hunting and Fishing