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Journeys
Diary of an Urban Pilgrim
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Jason J. Wong

Contents

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In Transition .................................................................................................................................................. 2
Under Construction....................................................................................................................................... 3

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For reproduction inquiries, please email the author at Jason.Ji.Wong@gmail.com

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In Transition
The subway is empty. On either side are two black wormholes that take you to your next
destination. White fluorescent lights mix with halogen ones to create a faded yellow glow which engulfs
the station. A pipe is leaking somewhere; other than the never-ending buzz coming from the lights
there is the drip-drip-drip sound of water. The white and black checkered tiles are old and faded.
Several are broken and dirty. Yet they still silently mirror the scene around them, giving off a dirty glossy
look that is reminiscent of the glorified grand opening many years ago. The advertisements of well-to-
do corporations are hung on the walls in a perfectly straight line parallel to the floor. They have graffiti
on them for one of the ladies has grown a permanent marker mustache. On the edge of the platform
before the subway tracks are the yellow bumps that warn travelers not to fall into the tracks. There is a
musty smell in the air.

As I step forward into this environment, the echo from my steps cut sharply into the buzz from
the lights and the leaking pipe. I close the book I was reading and place my stuff on the bench, which
has just been repainted a dull gray to cover up the graffiti. Finally aware of my surroundings, I get up
and stretch, staring into the two black tunnels on either side of me that go to different places. They
seem to go on forever. I feel comfortable stuck between two different worlds: the place I left and the
place I'm going to. I’m in transition. My destination doesn't matter anymore; it’s what I'm doing now
that counts. I'm removed from- everywhere. I’m waiting to go- somewhere.

Each thought changes with each drip: No one's here but I don't feel alone. I don't feel bad but I
don't feel happy. What am I feeling? I'm neutral. Nothing seems to matter here. I don't care how I
look or what I say. I don't care what time it is. I can do anything here while I wait. There is no shame,
there is no gloating. There is nobody here that controls me, evaluating me, embarrassing me, pressuring
me. Drip. Drip. Drip. As I think about school, history, math, chemistry—my thoughts drift into thinking
about the two black tunnels, about the rhythmic drip-drip-drip sound about me. I feel my body tune in
to the subway. There isn’t much to notice around me, so I notice everything. The red electronic signs
hanging from the ceiling fluctuate, blinking on and off "$#sQ3#%td&@". Broken. Meaningless.

A train is coming. I hear it. It opens its doors and I step inside, and we head into one of the two
black tunnels that go on forever, together.
Under Construction
The darkness engulfs us. It is periodically broken by a fading fluorescent light that dimly
illuminates the tunnel. It is as if the light itself is moving, and we are standing still. But we are the ones
in transition. Here, we are the guests. You can feel the speed increasing and it feels like the ground is
moving faster and faster underneath you, but inside your head you know it is the train. Forget the world.
Why can’t the ground move the lights past us? We are the ones that are still, while the world itself
moves us this way and that. For a minute, the world is pushing by you while you sit. But the world
slows to a stop and the train doors open, leaving you to make the next move. You move up the stairs,
exit the turnstiles and walk into the dark night.

It is late at night, but there are workers taking a break from cleaning the station and are
chatting amicably in a closed restaurant's table. You walk past them. Looking up at the sky, you notice
that the stars are absent; stars are being outshone by the city lights. You walk down three empty blocks
and besides the wind the only thing you hear is your breathing and your footsteps. As you prepare to
turn the final corner into your house, there is a construction site in front of you.

It is empty. Inside, lights are shining. A sign says KEEP OUT, and another says DON'T CLIMB
STAIRS. You jump the fence and climb the stairs. The cold cement foundations of the building are done,
and you explore the middle of the second floor. It’s empty, incomplete, and abandoned until morning.
It’s perfect. You have this vast empty building to yourself for the time being. In a few more months it will
be full with people sleeping, eating, and heading to work. You appreciate the silence, but break it with
your noise. You make your way to the third floor with no ceiling, lean against the unfinished wooden
walls and sigh, falling to the floor.

As you lay face up to the sky, your sweatshirt as your pillow, you shiver. It’s chilly. Time stops as
nothing moves. The streets are empty, everyone's asleep. There's nothing to disturb you except the
wind. You stare at the night sky and let your mind leave this place. For a brief moment, your eyes see
through everything: through the sky, through the stars, the solar systems, then the galaxies. You see
many things in the black empty space.

A steady light coming from the east slowly breaks into part of the darkness. Your mind runs
away from it. As the sun rises with your body lying on the floor, your eyes staring at the sky, your mind
runs fast through the universe, trying to escape.
 The sun chases after you, its lights dance across the sky, and you both run on a journey that
goes on forever, together.