There’s a rhythm to New York days that you stop noticing until you try to describe it: the platform at the same hour, the same constellation of fellow early-risers, the city waking up car by car.

After a decade of working in this city, the commute isn’t just how I get to work — it’s where I people-watch, plan my grocery list, decide what the plants need, and queue up the music I’ll practice with later.

It’s ordinary, and that’s the point of this blog. The ordinary days are the life. Everything else is punctuation.