Passing

This month I've traveled to Manhattan by train more frequently than I have in the 22 years I've lived on the East End of Long Island. Usually, I use the two hours to catch up on my reading or my sleep.
But last week I turned my gaze to the slide show that sped past my window. To slow it down, I set my shutter speed to 1/25 second and pointed my camera outside. Warehouses, parking lots, strip malls and graffiti flew by. Instantly, I scanned the images I had collected so quickly on my digital camera.
While the blur created an interesting effect, I found nothing that inspired. Trying again, I tilted my lens downward toward the ground and kept pressing. Rails flashed; metal moved side to side, up and down. Life was passing and so was time.
Apropos after this past weekend when I traveled back and forth to the city to see old friends from Syracuse University and to attend a reunion we had been planning for months. Is life passing forward or backward? Sometimes it's hard to tell.