Subway connections.

Sometimes, when you take the subway, in the middle of a mass of humanity, you can oddly feel a little lonely, particularly on a day when you've dropped off fifty new friends at the airport and they are no longer following behind you except in the pretty pictures in your mind's eye and the lovely song you can still hear in your mind's ear.

Most people on the NYC subway have found a way to disconnect form the throng, to look inward and take a little break from visual and aural invasion of the madding crowd. The good people at Apple have brought us the iSubway, where everyone is connected to their favorite music or tricky games or, if you're above ground in Queens, your gossip-y friend. But I dispensed with all of that and my crossword puzzles last year to look people in the eyes.

To connect.

And it works! Look across the aisle and smile and more often than not, someone will smile back. It is amazing to be reminded that we are human and people respond in kind. Toddlers are the best. Every one in the world is a potential new best friend to them, and although the consistency of the universe is a little beyond their comprehension and you will disappear from their memories the moment they leave the train, they will make any number of faces at you as long as you make faces back.

We should never forget our toddler heart.

One day, on the A train, a group of very rowdy youths got on board at 14th Street. They were pushing one another, their soft drinks flying, laughing and loud. Very, very loud. Then one of them, unusually tall and thin, touched the overhead bar, rose up en pointe, and effortlessly raised his other leg into an arabesque. The poetry of his movement, this moment, moved me to my core. A random act of artistry, and I was so happy to live in New York, on a subway, like today, where beauty can break out like springtime.