Woman on the Train


Cookie at Vittorio’s cas­ket NYC, Sep­tem­ber 16, 1989, Nan Goldin

I was a train from Penn Sta­tion to New Brunswick, NJ a cou­ple months back, and the woman sit­ting across the aisle from us got a phone call that brought word of a friends death. She was instantly over­come with grief. My instinct was to take a pic­ture. I got out my cam­era, but Britt, my red-​​headed com­pa­triot, was totally mor­ti­fied. She asked me what I was doing with enough indig­na­tion in her voice for me to know that it wasn’t a ques­tion. I know it’s exploitive. And I obvi­ously felt huge amounts of sad­ness for this per­son. But if Britt hadn’t been there, there’s a pretty good chance I would have taken it. Is that fucked up?